The Praxeum Chronicles The Blessed Light
by Stephen R Sobotka
Summary: There are divisions of faction, class, race and duty. But when two beings are brought together by happenstance, they will not only change each other, but the entire world of Azeroth. BOOK ONE COMPLETE / BEGINS BOOK TWO!
1. Chapter 1

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2008**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

One

The guttural sounds of mouths ripping cooked flesh off of the bone, along with the crackle of dry wood in a campfire filled the dusk-laden evening. The noxious smell of brewing grog filled the air along with the fumes of the burning wood, making only a thin ribbon of smoke in the skies of the wilds near Duskwood and Westfall.

A pair of wild boars had the misfortune to have wandered too close, and now were roasting on a pair of spits, while being worked over by the party's shaman. Sitting near the fire, a cluster of Orc warriors were well into devouring half of one of the cooked beasts, while two leather-clad rogues stood on watch near a pair of wagons. Looking somewhat bored with the surrounding countryside, one of the gray-skinned footpads leaned against an iron and wood crate; just one of several piled in the wagons and in a loose circle on the ground around them.

To find a group of Orcs like this, so far removed from their usual stomping grounds in Orgrimmar, was a rare oddity by any standard.

An oddity that, if left unchecked, would prove to be dangerous. Even a small party of Horde forces like this represented a clear threat to the people in the nearby plains of Westfall. Even more so to the bordering lands in Elwynn and beyond.

A danger which - in truth - would prove to be moot.

The leader of this brood was a gruff, grizzled warrior named Log. He'd been a survivor of the Third War, and was a master of duels with nearly twenty-score victories. Some would call him an Orc in his prime.

Yet, when he rose from the fire to amble over to the stores of drink kept in one of the wagons, a glowing, hammer-shaped blast or holy power fell from a height above him, decimating his skull in with a blazing crunch of blood and bone.

His body hadn't even begun to topple to the dirt, when his fellows jerked in shocked reaction. However, before a single body could be goaded into action, hot iron-slugs - rocketing in on the heels of a rolling echo of gunfire - ripped into the shaman from behind the group. Pierced through, this Orc did have time to scream, before he tipped over into the ring of burning wood under the spits. His death throes scattered roasted meat and burning embers across the small campsite; making the other orcs spring back with singed skins as they groped for their weapons.

"Attack! Defend yourselves!" Two of the remaining warriors started to dash for cover, only to howl amid surprise and pain, as a couple of sleek hunting cats sprang out of the shadows to bear them down to the ground. A heartbeat later, the sound of more screams, slashing claws and ripping flesh filled the air.

More gunfire erupted, and another warrior dropped with gouts of dark blood spurting from his neck and chest. One of the two rogues tried to vault to the tops of one of the wagons, whipping out a bow to let fly with his own answering fire . . . only to pitch backwards when a slug caught him dead-center in his face.

Amid the chaos and dying Orcs, the remaining rogue made a desperate dash for one of the wagons. _Our orders! Must, carry, them-OOF!_ He slammed into the unyielding wall of an armored body looming out of the darkness. Knocked back by a sweeping strike of a metal shield, the grey-skinned orc scuttled backwards on his rump, scrabbling for his long knife, only to have it kicked away, before the same, armored foot planted itself in the middle of his chest to pin him against the ground.

_No! The mission!_ Wide eyes locked on the looming figure above him, the orc tried to speak; "S'mbatta-!" The crushing blow of a heavy mace against his head cut his words short, punctuated by his last wet, blood-soaked death-rattle breath.

Save for the last dying gasps and the low growls of the hunting cats dealing with their victims, the camp quickly settled back into stillness under the evening sky.

With a grunt, the armored paladin wrenched his weapon free from the ruin of the dead orc's head, rising to survey the rest of the slain. With pursed lips, Liam mac Roi blew a soft, trilling whistle towards the shadows beyond the light of the camp's fire ring.

Moments later, two stocky figures, clad in mail-guirded leather and hoods came stomping into view; trailing behind one of the hunting cats that loped up to meet them. The one - a male dwarf with a red beard flowing out of his hood - gave the white, black-speckled cat a familiar scratch behind its ears before he nodded towards Liam. "Well . . . that's for all of this lot, then!"

Nodding, the taller human knight said, "You do good shooting, Rhandall."

"Mm, more like shoddy marksmanship this time," Rhandall Stormhand grunted. Kicking out with one booted foot, he shoved the smouldering corpse of the shaman over, before he leaned on the barrel of his long blunderbuss. "Hanna, my pet, ye could've gotten this one in his eye! That was a fifty-yard mark, at least."

Proping her own rifle against her shoulder, his companion just snorted. "Ach! An' likely ye'd have done as said-better wi' yer own targets, cousin?" The female dwarf jerked her head towards another orc body. "Ye left half o' that one's brains scattered all o'er th' bloodly place."

"Just because you prefer speed over precision," Rhandall said archly. "A Stormhand's creed is t' never let haste overrun their skills wi' a rifle."

"Oh, for Faith an' th' Light, Rhan-."

"Hush, you two." Liam said with a touch of humor in his tone. In all the years he'd come to know the Stormhand Cousins, they were most prideful of their gunman's skills, and their differing views of marksmanship. "You can argue with each other when we're back at the Lion's Pride, and not before. We're still in the wilds, remember?"

Slightly chastised, Rhandall muttered, "Sorry, lad."

Hanna elbowed him. "No yer not," she said, before she chuckled and moved away to examine one of the dead.

Stepping clear of the wagon to join them, Liam rubbed the back of one armored glove against the splatter of blood caught in his prominent mustache. "Well," he said, casting his dark eyes around at the slaughtered orcs, "this is one raiding party that won't endanger any more lives."

"'Tis a wonder we found 'em this close to Alliance territory," Rhandall said. "I thought th' garrison defenders were patrollin' against raiders?"

Liam shrugged. "Could be they knew when to avoid the patrols, perhaps."

"Mm, don' think so, laddie. This lot's nae got th' look of raiders, settlin' in fer a scoutin' sortie."

While her cousin was speaking, Hanna had dropped into a crouch and cocked her head at one of the corpses. Making a _tck-tck!_ sound with her cheek, she called her own hunting cat over - a dark furred beast with grey-purple stripes. "Cousin," she said, reaching out to give her cat an affectionate pat, "this lot was nae any party o' raiders."

"Now," Rhandall asked, "why would'ye think that, cousin?"

Reaching out, Hanna shoved the dead orc over, before pointing one short finger at its chest. "Because . . . I believe this might explain it better."

Both Liam and Rhandall stared at the curious-looking collection of stones and threaded feathers the dead body had strung around its neck. Liam's eyes widened, before he turned and shoved another orc over, revealing the same item tied to its blood-soaked vest.

Liam sucked in a breath between his teeth. "It's the fetish mark of the Ulgo'm Sect!"

At that, the red-bearded dwarf snorted, then turned his head to spit on the ground. "Ach! They're all slavers! Dirty, no-good, rot-gut slavers!"

"Sort o' explains why they were so far from Horde territory," Hanna said, pulling her hood back, revealing her own red-gold hair, bound in a braid as she twisted her head around to take in the rest of the slain orcs. "Bet they were lookin' fer more meat t'capture, b'fore they headed back tae Kalimdor, t'sell it." She looked at the paladin, who was now stalking towards the wagons. "Liam?"

Liam didn't reply, until he made a quick check of the cages in the first wagon bed. "These cages are all empty," he said. "Either they'd just arrived, or they're the poorest excuse for flesh mongers in all of Azeroth." He motioned towards his companions. "Search them all."

"T'would be a waste, Lad," Rhandall said sharply. "We'd be better off just collectin' their heads an' headin' back t'collect th' bounty."

Liam wasn't listening, as he started to explore another cart full of cages.

"Best check th' others, Rhan." Hanna muttered. "You can bet a tin bar that yon laddie won't rest, 'till he's sure any poor souls t'be found in those cages can't be saved."

Rhandall grunted. "Aye, let's be on wi' it."

The trio made quick work, finding either only empty cages, or ones filled with offal and the odd remains of what was once a living being; either human, elf or something else . . . what, they couldn't be sure.

"This is stranger than hot winter in Coldridge," Rhandall said, after examining the last wagon. "Slavers usually are better trained than this, t'keep their wares in such a state!"

"Aye, we've searched every last cage," Hanna said. "Hardly a living soul in 'em."

"Not quite."

The two dwarves turned, in time to see Liam kneel next to a pile of casks and supply crates. The paladin shoved a couple of the wooden kegs aside, to reveal one smaller-made cage. At once, both of their hunting cats moved towards it, sniffing and rumbling a quizzical sound as they padded around it. "Hold your pets back, cousins," Liam said, as he removed a dagger from his belt. He reached up and grabbed onto a strong metal lock, before slipping the thick blade between the rings and twisting hard against the metal bindings. The lock parted with a snap of metal.

Both Rhandall and Hanna moved in closer, calling their pets to heel as Liam crouched lower to peer inside the cage . . . then, with a soft gasp, he tipped his upper body forward to reach inside. "Careful, Laddy," Rhandall cautioned. "Ye don' know what's been in there."

Liam said nothing, but there was a sound of pain and fear-filled whimpering issuing from inside the cage, followed by a soft, soothing sound from the paladin. Then, Liam slowly shuffled backwards, his arms cradling something wrapped in a dirty, mangy-looking hide.

"Ugh, another dead body, most likely!"

Crouching back on his heels, Liam slowly rose and moved back towards the fire. "Rhandall, I'll need some of that spring water, quickly."

The dwarf muttered as he pulled his backpack around, rummaging for a pouch of the clear, restorative liquid. Both he and Hanna moved to join Liam, who was kneeling next to the campfire now; holding whatever he was carrying with extreme gentleness. "Here, Lad."

Taking the offered water-skin, Liam uncorked it with one hand, before he shifted the now-moaning figure to cradle it more upright against his chest. "Come now," he murmured encouragingly, as he reached up to brush the trailing edge of the hide back from a face. "Drink . . . slowly, now." Tipping the skin, he fed a small trickle of water into the mouth of the being he held. There was a moan, then a cough and sputter, before the being swallowed a good mouthful of water.

In the light of the campfire, the person's face and hair were now visible . . . dirty, long, dark-red locks with ash-smudged and bruised cheeks marred her features, but now they all could clearly recognize what she was by the faint green glow in her barely-open eyes and the long, tapered ears.

"Great Magni's Hammer!" Rhandall drew a hissing breath over his teeth. "That's a Blood Elf," he growled.

Hanna was also scowling, but she was more pragmatic. "One of those misfit mana-suckers . . . but, what was she doin' in that cage? I thought Blood Elves an' Orcs were allies?"

Liam frowned, but he said nothing as he fed more swallows of water to the stricken elf.

"What does it matter?" Rhandall was stepping back, preparing his blunderbuss. "Best put her down, Liam."

Hanna shot her cousin an appalled look. "Rhandall! What in the Abyss are ye-?"

"Best t'do this now, b'fore she gets her strength back," he said sternly. "I'll make it quick. One shot, an' she won't feel a thing."

Liam scowl turned darker, before he said, "No."

"No?" Rhandall stared hard at the paladin.

"No, she needs healing and care, and I will not allow any more harm to come to her."

Both Rhandall and Hanna stared hard at Liam. "Laddie! What are ye sayin'?That's a Hordie! We cannot let her-."

"Rhan, for once in yet life, listen t' him an' good," Hanna said firmly, getting her own wits back. "Just look at her! She's barely conscious."

"But she's-! How do we know she didn't hide in there, to avoid bein' killed by us in th' first place?"

"Oh use yer head, Rhan!" Hanna huffed. "Even an ale-soaked priest can tell when someone's been injured . . . an' besides, she wasn't visible when we first sighted this camp. There wasn't time f'r her t'hide!"

"But, she is a-!"

"She is a victim, or else she wouldn't have been locked in that cage, like a slave." Liam set the water-skin down and slowly turned, so his armored body more or less shielded the Blood Elf from Rhandall. "You know as well as I do, the treatment that all slavers pay unto their wares. Especially the uncooperative ones." He paused to pull the covering back further from the Blood Elf's face, turning it to reveal a livid, purple bruise on her cheek . . . and several more that ran down the length of her neck.

At that, both dwarves blanched. "Great Blessed Light," Rhandall hissed.

Rising, Liam cradled the elf woman against his chest, glancing down when she moaned and shivered. "Come. We'll get her back to Goldshire, and see to getting a proper healing for her injuries." Turning, he began to walk out of the ruin of the orc camp.

"What?" Rhandall was beside himself. "Are you out of your iron-clad brain pan, Lad?" he asked. "Taking a . . . a Hordie into an Alliance village-."

"Would ye rather we find a boat and sail her all th' way back t'Kalimdor?" Hanna looked as if she'd reached the limit of her patience with her cousin. "Come, Bolt! Kryn!" Hanna stomped past her cousin, their two hunting cats following after.

Flabbergasted, Rhandall watched them move off for a moment longer, before he jumped at the trot to keep up. "Blast it, girl! Uncle Bronbor was always too lax with yer discipline!"

Eventually, the trio arrived at the spot where they'd secured their mounts - hidden from being detected by the orcs, at the bottom of a sunken bluff.

"Liam, ye got t'know that this is a bad idea!"

"Just help th' man, Rhandall, so we can get goin'," Hanna prompted. Already saddled on her dun-colored ram, she nodded to Liam, who was working to prepare his own chestnut mare to carry two, while the huddled form of the Blood Elf lay on the ground nearby. "She may well die, b'fore we e'en get back to Goldshire, unless ye put some jump in yer limbs."

"Rhandall, hand her up to me," Liam asked, as he finished adjusting his mount and stepped up to swing himself into place.

Rhandall slung his weapon onto his shoulder, before saying, "A fine memory this will make . . . me, a Sturmhahn, helping a blasted Blood Elf-!" Grumbling, Rhandall did as he was told; stooping to heft the curled-up body in its dirty cover, allowing Liam to take it and settle the elf before him on the horse.

"Come," Liam said, before taking his mount's reins and wrapping the trailing ends twice around his fist. "We'll make time going overland, through Westfall." Turning the mount away, he jabbed the mare in the ribs with his heels, making it leap forwards, out of the sunken bluff. With a spray of dirt and dry scrub grass, the horse quickly settled into a brisk gallop and was away.

"Ach! Wait fer us, you iron-plated do-gooder!" Rhandall shouted, scrambling to reach his own ram; the snow-white beast standing patiently next to Hanna's mount.

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oOoOo

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_Movement . . . _

_She was being moved . . . _

She barely acknowledged the gentle hands, the soothing tone of voice that spoke to her as she was lifted from the slaver's cage. Barely registering the thick voices of the dwarves, nor did she taste the water that lingered on her lips, even after she reflexively swallowed the reviving liquid. Even the argument to spare her life, and the short journey to the mount that was now galloping across the landscape to carry her to salvation were all phantoms to her drifting mind.

All she could remember was pain.

Pain. Shock . . . betrayal that came first, then horror after . . . the memory of seeing companions and Outrunners slaughtered before her very eyes.

Then, there was anger . . . fueled to battle-rage, as she tried to save the last of the caravan from the blades that were too eager, too thirsty for elf flesh and blood.

Fear came on the heels of loss . . . and defeat, against superior numbers. They bore her down and striped her of her armor. Her badge of honor . . . her Ranseur, taken from her clasping fingers by force.

Then, came the humiliation and the degradation . . . the shackles, the whip, rough hands that shoved her down into the muck, and the beatings. They beat her for being resistant, for being snide, for rebelling against their orders. Eventually, the fear of pain and death and worse slid into an all-encompassing numbness.

The spirit, broken . . .

The body, beaten until it could no longer fight back . . .

All that remained was a final, flickering spark of life in a weak shell of flesh.

For all that had happened, the elf who had been once known as Freaja . . . for all that she no longer cared, she knew that she would die in the cage, at the hands of the orc slavers. Die far from the beloved memory of the Sunwell, from the land she called home. For all that, the red-tressed elf woman was more than prepared to fall into Death and his cold embrace . . .

However, cradled in the armored arms of a mortal enemy - a human, a paladin soldier of the Alliance - the drifting consciousness of Freaja Anu'dorei did not even realize what was before her.

A second chance.

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**-==- To Be Continued... -==-**


	2. Chapter 2

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2008**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Two

Rhandall Sturmhahn was many things; a stout friend, brave to a fault, strong of thews and back and never one to shirk his responsibility or his duty to others.

Yet, for all that, the Wildhammer dwarf was also slightly thick-headed when it came to being tactful. Especially where certain races were concerned. Which was why the usually jovial hunter was now grumbling under his beard, rocking back and forth on his boot heels as he waited beyond the ring of the main campfire's light, rather than waiting among the beings who were bustling inside the the small camp that he'd been asked to find this night.

"Blast, scorch and bend it all!" He snorted through his thick nose and glanced down the hill. Below him, the road leading into the human village of Goldshire lay like the ribbon of scales on a dragon's back.

_I'd very much like t'be back at th' inn in Goldshire, quaffing back a mug of good brown beer an' having a mouthful o' roasted boar meat!_ Rhandall though to himself. _Instead, I've got t'stand here in th' grass, lookin' like some red-chested booby, while I wait fer a blasted--!_ His thoughts were cut off by the approach of footsteps in the grass. Turning, he grunted as two tall figures approached; their cloaked forms lit from the light of the full moon shining on the hilltop behind them."Well, 'tis hight time, good master and missus!" Rhandall made a low bow, but was quickly back up as he asked, "Are we well prepared t'leave then?"

"Yes, Friend-Dwarf. I will make my mount ready and follow you." The shorter of the two beings turned and made a respectful gesture towards the other. "I will return shortly, Thedre."

"Do not tarry long, beloved. We must still travel onwards to the Wetlands, and be well away before nightfall tomorrow," her companion said, giving the dwarf a partially amused glance.

"I won't keep yer lady detained any longer than necessary, Friend-Elf," Rhandall said, even as he tried -- and failed -- to keep the irritation out of his tone. "But we do need to get going!"

"We shall." the female Night Elf gave her companion a fond embrace, before adding, "_Asha'falah_, beloved. " She nodded towards Rhandall. "Come, friend. I will follow you back to Goldshire . . ."

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oOoOo

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The ether world of dreams can be a cruel place. The miasma formed within the mind could shape dark shadows; phantoms of the fear and pain that lurks within all living hearts; feeding on that which would give even the brightest spirit pause.

Especially for one as hurt as Freaja.

The pain that was feeding the darkness around her -- the memories still fresh in her mind -- made her writhe and cry out inside the prison of her dreams. Amid the nightmares, faces of beings -- both familiar and not -- floated about, their features twisted into rictus-masks. Visions of betrayal, death and misery, threatened to rise up and drown her very soul.

_No! I cannot--! Do not make me see!_ Freaja swatted at the phantoms, but they merely grew larger and more grotesque. Panicked, she tried to will her body to turn and flee. _Help me! Someone, any one . . . help me!_

Then, from somewhere in the dark ichor . . . a voice penetrated, touching her mind. _Peace . . . be still._

The words sounded familiar, but then again as alien as the one thought that bubbled up to the surface of the Blood Elf's consciousness; _someone was here? There, in this dark place-?_

Somehow, she turned towards the direction the voice came from. It was then she noticed the subtle shift of the darkness . . . the inky void was retreating . . . from what she could not tell, but clearly a space was turning much lighter with every passing moment. _What . . . wh-what are you?_ Freaja called out.

_An ally of a friend, to those who wish to see you well, once more._

_Well? Was she just ill then?_ That thought fluttered like a moth's wing against the boarders of her conscious mind. She should be dead, and yet, do the dead truly feel pain . . . sorrow and fear, such as this?

_Be at peace. Let the healing work on your injuries, child of the Sin'dorei._

At once, Freaja recognized what the words were, or more to the point what language they were being spoken in: Darnassian. The spoken tongue of the Kaledorei.

That caused a new bubble of fear to rise in her spirit. _A Night Elf! No . . . any Night Elf would not help me. _she thought. _Kaledorei all swore an oath to fight against Blood Elves! _Now tense as a bowstring, Freaja's mind started to race again. Was this the fate of all Blood Elves when they passed into the void of death? To find false comfort at the hands of their sworn enemy?

Freaja tried to move, but she found no purchase on whatever surface she was on. Soft, unyielding and for all that, cloyingly comfortable and . . . without the strength to protest, Freaja suddenly felt herself sinking once again.

Only this time, she wasn't slipping back into that dark, wicked void. More in fact, she found herself faced with a new brightness of light; gentle and warm, like the upswelling of comfort that was a balm to her troubled heart.

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oOoOo

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_Yes, child. Rest. Let your body and mind find the healing light . . . and sleep._

Unable to resist the siren call of the tongue of her people's mortal foe, Freaja shook her red-tressed head twice, before she simply drifted away under the influence of the healing herbs that had been administered to her ravaged body.

Looking up from the now sleeping form of the Blood Elf, Ayshalla turned her glowing eyes towards the three people standing across from the simple wooden bed. "There, I have done all that I can," the Night Elf healer said. "It will now be up to her body, and spirit."

Nodding, the sole human among the trio stepped forwards to bow humbly before the taller woman. "You have my thanks, _star-sister_," Liam said. "I feared we would not find aid for her in time."

"Aye," Hanna Sturmhahn added with a glance at the sleeping Blood Elf. "We couldn't bloody-well take her into Stormwind an' ask fer th' healers there t'help."

"Just as well," Rhandall said, crossing his arms. "She might die anyway, despite our efforts." His terse expression became a touch sheepish after he saw the looks aimed at him from his friends. "I was only saying--."

"Peace, friend. Whether or not she lives, is now in the hands of Elune," Ayshalla said. "Still, being that she is one of the Sin'dorei, they may not lend their aid to her. I would not have given my own, if not for your summons, Son of Roi."

"I would not have asked, Ayshalla, if the need was not as great," Liam said.

"One would question that 'need'," Ayshalla said. "Still, it is not for even star-children like myself, to ponder such things. You have your reasons, paladin. I pray to Elune that you will not be found wanting, for all your . . . generosity towards this child of the Sin'dorei." She gathered her belongings and made a short bow, before brushing back the long blue tresses behind her long ears. "The debt we owned you, for the assistance you gave our village months ago is now, in part, settled. Now, I must return to my beloved and our friends."

"May the Light watch your paths," Liam said, bowing in return.

"_Ande'thoras'ethil_, my friends," Ayshalla said, leaving the room and the trio alone with their sleeping charge.

Sighing, Rhandall sank down to sit in a nearby wooden chair. "Well, now what happens now, laddy? Ye got yon lass the healin' she needed-."

"If you ask what we will do next?" Liam crossed his arms and moved to stand next to the room's only window. "That I do not yet know."

"B-but . . . ye must've had some idea!" Rhandall said gruffly. "In case yer not thinkin', lad, bringin' that she-elf all the way here to Goldshire--."

"I understood the risk involved, by bringing her here, Rhandall. I only thought to save her life," the paladin said, turning to look out over the small provincial village outside the inn.

"I can understand ye doin' that wi' anyone else, Laddie." Hanna said. "But, this blood elf--?"

"I would do the same for anyone, Hanna," Liam said, not turning around. "Be they Alliance or Horde. Human, Elf, Orc or otherwise."

"Aye, and that's admirable, in belief . . . but in practice?" She shook her head. "Ye always did have that one soft spot in yer whole bein', lad," Hanna said, sighing as she leaned back against a wall. "'Tis one of the tenets of yer life . . . but this time, 'tis possible ye might have let yer beliefs put yerself in o'er yer head."

"Aye, 'specially now. If word gets around that there's a member of th' Horde in Alliance territory -- practically within' spittin' distance o' Stormwind City itself -- then . . . we'll all be in pitch with the constabulary!" Rhandall scowled, the fixed Liam with an even stare. "'Twas better t'leave her with those stinking orcs, an' be done with it."

At that Liam shocked both dwarves by rounding on the older male, a scornful grimace on his mustashed face as he asked, "Would it be better for all if I just forgot the creed of my office and calling, and left all whom I came across that were in dire need, to simply suffer and die?"

"Now look here, Lad-!"

Hanna was quick to get in between the two males -- knowing when Liam was in a foul mood, and just how quickly her cousin's temper could flair up. "Now, now, we would ne'er ask ye t'ever forget followin' yer beliefs, Liam." She shot Rhandall a quelling look, before adding, "It's just that . . . well, why this she-elf?"

Pulling back a bit, Liam frowned before he let his gaze fall on the sleeping Blood Elf. "That is . . . something I cannot explain, yet."

"Well, ye best tell us somethin', laddy," Rhandall said pointedly. "After all, if she's discovered, 'twill be all of our necks stretchin' in the wind."

Sighing, Liam brushed both hands across his face, before he folded his arms and said, "I can only say this much; when I first discovered her, laying in the bottom of that slaver's cage I felt, something. Something that told me that this one . . . this one Blood Elf was important. That we needed to save her." He shook his head and turned to face both dwarves. "I cannot say more than that, my friend."

With a heave of her bosom, Hanna nodded. "Then that 'twill have t'do . . . for now." She glanced at Rhandall, and saw that he would comply -- even if he still didn't like it -- before she asked, "So, what do we do now, lad?"

Liam said simply, "We wait. Then, when the time comes, we move her to a much safer location.

Rhandall snorted. "Safer? What could be more safer than a village, wi'en spittin' distance of the capital city of the whole bloody Alliance?"

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oOoOo

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Night fall over Goldshire . . . crickets and the sound of frogs could be heard over the gentle waters of Crystal Lake.

Near the shore, the burbling croaks of a small cluster of murlocs wove their way among the sounds of the evening. Having secured a meager catch of small fish, the aquatic humanoids were lugging their food back towards the water; to cross towards the small cluster of huts on the small island rising from the lake's center.

The lead murloc -- larger, with more vibrant dorsal fin-spines -- had just turned to urge his fellows onwards to their home, when his head, chest and eye was pierced through by several arrows. Before the others could cry out and raise the call for their river-born brethren, a sudden silence enveloped the air around them. In seconds, several shapes darted among the stricken murlocs . . . and then the fishing party lay dead on the lake shore.

The shapes paused, crouching low on the grassy banks as they looked around for any other signs of activity around them. When none could be found, one of them rose up and cast back his hood; tipping a dark-haired head back to face the waning moon overhead.

"Little, stinking fish-rats!"

The standing male snapped his head down, eyes blazing as he glared at the speaker. "Hold your tongue fast, _shok'cala!_"

The crouching speaker quickly ducked their heads.

"We must be silent until the time comes to bare our blades, and strike true and fast," the standing male hissed. "Come, We-Who-Walk-in-Sunlight . . . our mission will end this night, and by sunrise, the _sin'osa_ will be dead!" Reaching up, the tall Blood Elf covered his face once more, before gesturing to the thirty deep-green cloaked followers spread around him on the lake shore.

As one, the dark-clad Sin'dorei moved like a rolling wave along the banks of Crystal Lake. Footsteps as silent as padded paws of Nightsabers, they wove in and around the trees like wraiths . . .

Heading westward, towards the unsuspecting town of Goldshire.

.

.

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	3. Chapter 3

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2008**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Three

.  
The sensation of softness beneath her, coupled with the a smell of warmth, yeast and roasting meat was what woke the Sin'dorei woman from her deep, healing slumber.

_Oh . . . Blessed Sun._ Groaning, Freaja fought her way through the last vestiges of the drowsy fog that enveloped mind. Spreading out her fingers, she felt the soft linen under her cheek and the crackle of rushes beneath her prone form. _Strange. I don't recall such comfort from these accursed slave drivers--!_ Freaja felt her body go stiff with renewed fear, putting her hands out to shove against the plush surface as she twisted about in the linen to get upright.

"Stay put, lass . . . yer in no condition t'be jumpin' out of that bed, just yet."

Frozen in place, Freaja's mind snapped into full-waking focus. The voice was speaking in guttural accented Orcish, but it clearly wasn't an Orc that was addressing her! Blinking sleep-encrusted eyes as she turned her head towards the end of the bed, she gazed upon the red-bearded, dour-expression of a leather-clad dwarf, seated on a wooden chair across from her.

_Dwarf?_ her mind practically pounced on the thought. _Where would-?_ The logical part of her stopped any of her racing mind from going off into wild tangents, while her stiff limbs slowed her as she rose up from the linens. Looking about, she took in the plain-looking room and the simple, home-spun decor. _This is clearly not the slaver's camp, but . . . where am I?_ _What became of-?_ Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden wave of dull, aching pain that raced along her body. Groaning, she leaned forwards to brace her hands against the mattress.

"Back among th' wakin' world, are ye?" the dwarf asked, his lips twisting as he scowled. "Though a might worse fer wear, from th' looks of it."

Not replying, Freaja ducked her head to take stock of her current state. Her body clearly showed a few signs of brusing but no lasting injury from her prior odeal. Though the ache in every limb and part of her body told her she wouldn't be fit for any sort of activity soon. It was then she noticed she was now clothed in a simple linen shift. _A small mercy, considering the slavers bore me naked in that cage!_ That thought made her shoulders ripple with an unchecked shiver.

"So, not a speakin' type, lass?" the dwarf asked.

Freaja lifted her head to study the dwarf. He didn't appear threatening at first, but the blunderbuss he had cradled across his lap was enough of a warning that she was still in danger. She cleared her throat. "Am I your . . . prisoner?" she asked, using the Alliance's Common haltingly.

If the dwarf was surprised to hear she knew their language, he didn't show it. "No," he said, switching to Common. "Still, that's up to yer savior as what happens t'ye now." Shifting his weapon to a more ready position, the dwarf rose to his feet and made a motion with the barrel of his weapon. "Stay put, lass . . . don' give me any excuse." He walked back towards the room's single door and rapped on it with one broad fist.

_My savoir? _The though fluttered inside Freaja's mind like a trapped bird. _So, I was rescued? But, by whom?_

A moment later, the door opened, allowing a tall, armor-clad human to step into the room. He paused to glance at the dwarf, before he looked at Freaja with a expression that was equal parts stern and . . . concerned? "Ah, our Lady is awake." Moving closer to the bed, he asked, "You are recovered, I hope?"

Freaja stared back, letting her eyes drift over this human; taking in his long, russet hair and mustaches, as well as the military flavor in his stance as he stood at the side of her bed. There was also something else; a presence that told her that, while he seemed no different that dozens of humans she'd come in contact with before, there was something more to this one.

"Lady?"

Started from her thoughts, Freaja nodded before asking slowly. "You . . . saved me?"

"I did, along with my companions. What is your name and title, if I may ask?"

For a brief moment, his courtesy threw her off her guard. _A respectful human? Humans hate the Sin'dorei._ she thought. _They never have trusted us._ That single thought made her cautious again.

"Lady?"

"I . . . my name is Freaja. I have no title." _I must not let them know. After all, humans and dwarves are enemies of the Horde. Even more so, if they only knew--?._ Clearing her throat, she asked. "May I have . . .some water?"

Nodding, the armored human moved to a nearby wooden table, where he retrieved a wooden mug and filled it from a pitcher of clear spring water. Approaching the bed, he handed the mug out, saying, "I am Liam mac Roi, Knight of the Order of the Silver Hand." As she took the offered vessel, he made a small bow and added, "I am at your service."

Nodding, Freaja took a cautious sip of the water, before she asked, "Will you tell me, where I am, human?"

"You are at . . . an inn, in the village of Goldshire." Liam said. He motioned to the dwarf. "This is Rhandall Sturmhahn. He and his sister, Hanna were also responsible for salvation."

The dwarf simply grunted.

Freaja nodded slowly towards Rhandall, before she faced Liam again. "What is your intention towards me?"

"My . . . intention?"

"Yes." Her mind shaking off the last vestiges of sleep by every passing moment, as well as awareness of her current state, made Freaja sit up straight in her bed. Her entire being adopted a posture of expectant command. "Am I to be given to your leader, as a prisoner of war?"

Liam seemed to sense the shift in her, as he also straightened and stared back with an unapologetic air. "At the moment, no. Even though you may be recovered, you are in no condition to be given over to anyone."

"Not that either the Constabulary or Sir Fordragon would mind what condition she was in," Rhandall muttered.

Liam scowled over his shoulder. "Rhandall!"

The dwarf stuck his chin out stubbornly. "Well, I only speak th' truth, Lad . . . besides--."

"That isn't something that aids our situation here," Liam countered. "This lady is clearly not a soldier of the Horde.

"Doesn't matter, Liam," Rhandall said. "She's still a bloody Hordie. What with th' Blood Elves bein' allies to Thrall an' his whole lot."

Liam frowned as he turned halfway to glare at Rhandall. "We still cannot simply turn her in, as if she was a war criminal. To do so would be unconsionable of us."

"Liam, ye know bloody well that any o' them what get caught in Alliance lands have t'be taken as prisoners," Rhandall shot back. "'Tis th' law."

"The dwarf is right." Freaja said, cutting off Liam's returning comment. "I am a Sin'dorei. Our people support the Orcish Horde."

"That may be so," Liam said, looking back to Freaja, "but you are in no condition--."

"Your concern is admirable, human," Freaja said, her tone turning flinty and cold. "However, if you ultimately intend to give me to your leaders as a prisoner, then there is no real reason to let me linger here."

"That may be," Liam said, looking at Freaja with an expression that was equal parts stern, concerned and puzzled. "Still, I will decide what will happen to you. To treat you otherwise would not be warranted, since without our help you might have died."

That comment alone made Freaja turn pale. "I . . . died?"

He went on in a more gentle tone, after seeing Freaja blanch at the reminder of her previous state. "Besides, I am certain you might prefer a more-."

"LIAM!"

The shout that pierced through the walls of the room was followed by the sound of boots thundering on wooden steps, interrupting any further talk between the human, his dwarven companion and their charge. Without preamble, the door slammed open, revealing the short form of Hanna Sturmhahn, who's face was wreathed with alarm, her twin axes clutched in her fists.

Rhandall snapped, "Hanna! What th' devil-!"

The dwarf woman said just three words. "Raiders! Attacking Goldshire!"  
.

oOoOo

.  
The village of Goldshire had only a token force of defenders in this time of war; mostly general conscripts from the nearby farms and orchards, with some of the village's constabulary -- only a few armored and well-armed -- and what men the garrison at Westbrook could spare thrown in as well. At this time, the current number was only forty to fifty men and women.

It was a paltry sight, compared to the force of thirty organized, armed and vicious Sin'dorei Rangers, which were now in open attack against the village proper.

Archers with bows picked off the least armed and armored with ease, while those of the Farstriders who were keen for close combat charged into the hastily summoned humans, letting sword, axe and dagger drink deeply. Made bold by the ease of how the first wave of defenders fell, the leader of the raiders urged them onwards; stirring up their lust for more battle and death.

However, when they got within sight of the village smithy and the Lion's Pride Inn, they were met with Marshal Dughan and twelve Westbrook soldiers . . . and these defenders did not fall so easily.

It was into this fray that Liam, Rhandall and Hanna burst into, coming out of the inn with their weapons out.

"Blessed Light preserve us," Liam hissed, before he gathered his resolve and shouted to his friends. "Rhandall! Take Hanna and try to pick off the archers!" Unlimbering his shield as he drew out his long sword, he added, "I'll see if I can aid those men! We have to keep them from sweeping into the village center!"

"Be careful, lad!" Rhandall said, motioning for his cousin to follow him to a place well clear of the general melee, but close enough for their guns to be effective.

Liam ran towards the fringe of the fight, taking a moment in stride to whisper several quick prayers. As he did, the holy power that was his to command flowed through him, giving him added strength, protection and will. As he got closer, he picked a target -- a tall, blond haired Blood Elf, who was whirling a long, pointed pike around to keep two human guards at bay. _Judgment!_ Liam thought, pointing his shield-arm at the elf, and a glowing hammer of power came crashing down onto the elf's back from above. With a cry of pain, the ranger buckled, and his attackers bore down onto his stricken body.

"Hoi, Paladin!"

Turning, Liam caught sight of the armored form of Marshal Dughan, who had clubbed another elf aside with his own shield. "Marshal," Liam called out, making his way to the side of the older lawman.

"Glad to have your help," Dughan said, slashing at another ranger who came up against his flank. "Aaugh! They came out of no where . . . from somewhere to the East, across the lake, I think," he said as Liam slammed his own blade into the elf's side, causing the foe to crumple to the dirt.

"Why are they attacking?" Liam asked.

"Could be a precursor to a raid on Stormwind?" Dughan snarled, before he shouted out, "Dextry, watch the right! Archers!"

His order was answered by a series of rapid gunshots; the dwarves were now putting their marksmanship skills to good use.

At that, Dughan grinned. "Glad to have your friends helping, Paladin."

"We are at your service, Marshal," Liam replied.

With the addition of Liam's paladin spells and presence, along with his dwarven allies, the defenders slowly began to turn the tide against the raiders. What had been a vicious raid against a seemingly unprepared village, was now turning into an outright rout of the blood elf raiders. Thirty slowly became twenty, then a mere ten.

It was then, that the leader of the raiders shouted something in Thalassian. At that, seven of the remaining raiders formed a phalanx and charged at the heart of the defenders.

"What the Devil-?" Dughan bellowed, "Stand fast! Throw them back!"

Amid the cataphony of clashing bodies and weapons, Liam had pulled back to create a support spell, only to catch a quick glimpse of the raider leader and two of his remaining fighters break off from the battle. Puzzled, he didn't react until it became clear that the trio was heading deeper into the village . . .

Towards the inn!

"Marshal! They're attacking the inn!" Liam said.

At that Dughan whirled around, his face pale. "No! My daughter's in there, helping the innkeeper!"

At that, Liam didn't ask for permission or leave, he shot away from the battle and ran as fast as he could towards the inn. By the time he'd gotten halfway there, the three blood elves had already gained the door and battered their way inside. A moment later, a woman's scream pierced the early-evening air.

_Blessed Light, no! _Spurred on, Liam surged forwards, and made the doorway in seconds.

Inside, he came to a halt at the front of the inn's common room. There, the innkeeper lay on the floor -- alive or dead, Liam couldn't tell -- and his barmaid stood at the base of the steps that lead to the upper floor. She held a serving tray in front of her, while her body shielded a younger girl, who was crouched on the steps just behind her.

The three blood elves were arrayed before the two women, backs to the common room's entrance as they had weapons pointed at the older woman. The tallest of the three -- a dark-haired male with a wicked, curved sword -- gestured at the maid. "Where is she?" he snarled in accented Common, "Where is the _sin'osa_, bitch?"

The maid replied, "I dunno what you are-?"

"We know she is here! Stand aside, human, or we will kill you both and take her ourselves!"

Liam didn't hesitate further. With a whispered prayer -- _Consecration_ -- slipping from his lips, he readied both shield and sword and stepped towards the trio. "Hold! Face me, now!"

As the blood elves turned, they winced as the spell's power washed over them. "Take him!" the dark-haired elf ordered. "Quickly! We still have _her_ to deal with!" With a nod, the two flanking Farstriders spread out to bracket Liam. Their grim faces spoke of a world of suffering and death promised to the paladin for his interference.

Liam stood his ground . . . and yet, even as his body and soul were prepared to fight, in one small corner of his mind, one thought seemed to ping at him through his battle-consciousness: _Her? What do they mean by __**Her!?**_

_**.  
.**_

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	4. Chapter 4

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2008-2009**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Four

As a Paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand, Liam mac Roi followed three core beliefs; one, to always do what he felt was right. Second, to never abandon his duty to his order, his people and those in need, and lastly, to believe that the Light would, given time, provide all answers he sought in life. It was these precepts that guided Liam throughout his life, and for all that, he had never seen the need to question them.

At the moment though, engaged with three armed Sin'dorei rangers in the common room of the Lion's Pride Inn, a small, seemingly-insignifigant question in had cropped up the back of his mind: _why would the Blood Elves risk a raid on a peaceful town like Goldshire!?_

At that moment, the answer would have to wait, as Liam was facing the trio of raiders; all skilled and clearly wanting to spill more human blood this night.

"Take him!" the raid leader prompted. "Quickly! We still have _her_ to deal with!" His two companions spread out, trying to flank the paladin as they approached him from the far side of the inn's common room.

_Her? What do they mean by __**Her!? **_Liam shoved the though aside, eying each of the two warriors as he shifted his grip on his sword. _Concentrate, Liam. Now is not the time for rash actions! They believe they have the advantage . . . let's change that!_ Liam suddenly reached out, snagging the back of a nearby chair to hurl it at the leftmost attacker. Ducking, the blood elf never saw what was coming -- a vicious, rising blow from Liam that stunned him, leaving the armored ranger rocking on his heels like a wind-blown tree.

The second blood elf tried to charge in, thinking he had Liam's unprotected side and an easy strike, but Liam had reversed his sword and let this foe's momentum impale himself on the lenght of his blade. Letting out an explosive breath, the second ranger tried to overcome the shock, but Liam drove his armored elbow into his face. The momentum shoved the stricken elf backwards, wrenching his sword free. By then, the first ranger had recovered and raised his twin swords to chop them down onto Liam's left side. He only met with marginal success, as the double blow caromed off of the armor protecting Liam's shoulder, making a sharp, metallic sound.

Liam obliged him with a swift punch to the face, a following knee to the belly which folded the elf over double and a final, vicious backhanded chop that snapped his neck with a gunshot-_crack!_. A pain-filled moan followed the elf as he slid to the floor to die in a boneless heap.

"Enough! I will kill you myself!" The raid leader drew himself up, raising his curved sword in an overhand grip.

Liam didn't even flinch. "Come and attack me. Neither of us are getting any younger," he said.

The dark-haired ranger snarled something in Thalassian as he moved in close. Liam met his first blows with quick parries, but the sheer force ripped his shield away and forced him to retreat down the lenght of the common room.

Weaving steel in a riptide of chiming blows, the two clashed back and forth, around and around until Liam was forced back towards the stairs; where the innkeeper's head maid and Dughan's daughter were still crouched in fear. Stumbling back, Liam nearly crashed into the women, but managed to keep his armored body upright. Pressing his advantage, the ranger locked swords with the paladin, looming in close until they were both face to face.

"Foolish human! You dare protect her, and for that, you will perish!" His Common was thick and choppy, but there was no disguising the hate in his voice.

Liam grunted. As strong as he was, this blood elf had the leverage, and was pressing him back further by degrees. "Who do you . . . mean, sir?"

"Her! The _sin'osa!_ That demon-spawned bitch!" The blood elf pressed harder, bringing the rear-most edge of Liam's sword dangerously close to the paladin's own neck. "Once you are dead, I will have the honor of ridding the world of her . . . and his honor will be whole, again!"

Trying to shove the ranger back, Liam felt a moment of panic when the sharp steel barely kissed the skin of his neck. His mind fumbled to call on the Light for a prayer to give him the strength to throw his enemy back, when he heard a voice call out from above: "_Delsha kore, Neph'anis!_"

At that, the ranger jerked his head up, staring with enflamed rage at the speaker. "_Osa!_" he snapped, just before a bolt of blue-white lightning slammed into his exposed chest. With a groan, he staggered back, his face growing pale as the lightning seemed to flow over his body.

Liam took the chance he'd been given by the ranger's sudden distraction; rolling to the side, he switched his grip on his sword, preparing to attack . . . only to come to a stop when he spied the cause of the blood elf's distress. Standing in front of the maid and the girl was Freaja; her hands thrust outwards as the lightning poured out towards his foe. The blood elf woman's face clenched tight as she seemed to draw the other elf's vital essence into herself.

"Sweet Mercy!" Liam quickly shook off the shock, turning in time to see the ranger struggling to right himself.

"You . . . blood-spawned . . . witch!" The ranger lurched towards the stairs, his sword slashing towards Freaja's unprotected head.

Liam chopped his own blade up, knocking the curved blade up and away before he kicked the elf's explosed belly. With a grunt, the foe toppled over and the lightning suddenly winked off.

"Uugh!" Freaja stumbled forwards; the effort in casting the offensive spell making her breifly weak.

Liam moved to catch her before she landed at the foot of the stairs. "Are you all right?"

Panting, Freaja said, "Mana . . . tap . . . still, too weak." She shook her head, before glancing up and gasping. "'Ware, human!"

Liam snapped his head around, just in time to catch the swift attack of the ranger -- having recovered himself to lunge at them again. Unable to do little else, Liam braced and brought the point of his sword up in front of them both. With a sudden grunt of shock and pain, the Farstrider ranger skidded to a halt, his body impaled on Liam's weapon with an explosion of breath and blood.

Staring at both the paladin and the blood elf woman, the dark-haired ranger choked from the shock of hard steel plunged through to his spine. "No, I . . . can . . . not fail!"

With a soft snarl, Freaja spat in his face before saying, "You have, Neph'anis . . . now die, in dishonor!"

"You . . . will . . . die . . . Sin'be-!" The ranger's eyes flared wide, his breath coming out as a weak hiss. His dark-green orbs went dim as his body refused to support itself, the life-force within him quickly ebbing. With a final moan, the ranger slumped onto the stairs and lay still, dragging Liam's weapon with him.

Looking down at the dead elf, Liam let out a long sigh, before he turned to look at the two human women in turn. "Are you unharmed?" he asked, getting nods from both the maid and the girl.

Just then, the sound of running footsteps could be heard at the entrance of the common room. With a shout, Marshal Dughan and a couple of his men burst into view. "Paladin!? Are you--?" He skidded to a halt, seeing the scene before him. "My daughter!"

Reacting, the girl slipped down the steps and darted towards the Marshall. "Father!" A moment later, parent and child were embracing with profound relief. The maid also made her way past Liam and Freaja, joining the armored men and talking briefly with the Marshal, before one of the soldiers took her out of the inn to be seen too.

Liam looked at Freaja, then moved to help her sit on the nearest step when he saw she was still weak. "Lady? Are you going to be--?"

"I need . . . time," Freaja said, shaking her head slowly. "To recover. Still too . . . weak, even with . . . such a basic spell."

Liam nodded. Freaja's face was wet with sweat, and her palor was almost that of milk. "I understand." He made to take her hand. "Come. You should be returned to your room."

"Hold, Paladin."

Liam glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Marshal Dughan was standing alone in the middle of the common room, his daughter only just dissapearing with the other soldier through the inn's entrance. The man-of-arms was staring pointedly at Freaja.

"Marshal?"

"You told the watchmen you had an injured person to see to," Dughan said with a frown. "You never said anything about them being a blood elf."

Liam looked at Freaja -- seeing alarm fill her face -- before he turned to face the Marshall fully. "That was a matter of my concern, sir . . . as it stands, this woman was not one of the raiders. She was injured and weak when I brought her here, and was no threat to Goldshire."

"That may be, yet you know the laws we must uphold. All members of the Horde, if found within our borders, are enemies of the King," Dughan said. "The woman must be imprisoned."

Liam pressed his lips into a thin line. Looking back down at Freaja, he could see the elf woman's face turning even paler with fear. _As weak as she is, she would never survive imprisonment. Even in the local garrison or the Stormwind Stockades . . . one night inside those stone walls is as much of a death sentence, as if she were put to the sword!_

As if reading his mind, Freaja looked up at Liam, a shake of her red-tressed head clearly spoke of a refusal to be taken.

Holding Freaja's gaze for a moment, Liam said slowly, "I understand the law, Marshal Dughan." He turned to Dughan with an expression of iron resolve. "Yet, for this once, I must refuse to obey."

"You must . . . refuse?" The Marshall was clearly unprepared for that reply.

"Yes, I must," Liam said. "Because, this woman is under my protection, I vowed that she would remain in my care, until she was well enough to be returned to her own people. As a Knight of the Order, I cannot break that vow."

At that, both Dughan and Freaja -- who was now bracing herself against the wall of the stairwell -- stared with utter surprise at Liam. Behind the Marshall, Liam's dwarven companions had just arrived from outside, and had caught the paladin's statement of intent. With a sputter, Rhandall muttered, "Wha-wh-what!? Liam! Are ye daft, man!?"

Dughan said, "I must wonder that myself! Paladin, you cannot be expected to uphold such a vow . . . especially to a member of the Horde."

"Enemy or not, I cannot go back on a vow I have made." Liam crossed his arms as his face became still as steel. "Lady Freaja is under my care, until she is safely with her own kind."

Dughan scowled darkly, his jaw working side to side as he glared at Liam and the blood elf woman. "I should call up my men and take her by force!"

"Then, you would be in violation of the standing orders between the Silver Hand and your own King's Law, for attacking a member of the Order without justified cause," Liam said simply.

"You're in a more dire situation, Paladin. Harboring one of the Horde is a criminal offense against the Alliance!"

Liam said firmly, "I will take my chances with the King's wrath . . . when he summons me to answer for such a crime. As we both know, he is only recently returned still, and has more pressing matters to deal with that this, small, matter."

Dughan's face nearly turned black, but the import of Liam's words quickly got through to his mind . . . and he let out an explosive sigh before he started to pace the length of the floor. "Damn you, Paladin! I'm bound to uphold the laws of Stormwind!"

"As I am bound to uphold my oaths," Liam countered.

Dughan bristled. "I should report you to the Constabulary and be done with the both of you!"

"That is your choice, Marshall . . . however, ther is one other thing to consider," Liam said. He stepped down from the stairs and stood before Dughan. "As it stands, both she and I saved the life of your daughter. The barmaid bore witness to that. For that, you should consider myself in your debt, hm?"

Shaking his head, Dughan muttered something Liam couldn't catch, but he clearly caught Liam's meaning. He shot a dark look at Freaja -- who had been watching the two men in silence -- before he waved a dismissive gesture at Liam. "Fine, she is your problem then, Paladin . . . but you will not be welcome here, while she is under your charge!" He whipped around, glaring at the dwarves in turn. "You, that elf and your companions have two hours to leave Goldshire, or I'll return with my men and have all of you dragged to the Stockades in chains. Consider those hours repayment for my daughter's life." With that, Dughan stomped towards the inn's entrance, brushing brusquely past Rhandall and Hanna before vanishing outside.

Watching the man go, Liam uncrossed his arms and let his sword drop until the point rested against the wooden floor. "Well, that didn't go like I expected."

Freaja shot Liam a hard look. "Humans," she said with a snort.

From the front of the room, both Rhandall and Hanna stared at Liam. "Well, now . . . this is just peachy!" The hunter smacked the but of his rifle against the floor, his bearded face bristling as he pointed an accusing finger at Liam. "You an' yer damned, blasted vows have gotten us all in dutch now! All because o'-OW!"

Snatching her hand back from where she'd slapped her cousin in the back of his head, Hanna snapped, "We've nae got time t'be playin' blame-games, ye dunderheaded son of a hill-dwarf. Not when we've got trouble by th' boatload here t'deal with now!"

Rhandall grunted, then glared at Hanna, before he started to stalk towards the stairs, making Freaja start to back up the steps in alarm. "Well, this is one piece o' trouble I am t'see dealt with. Because I ain't gonna be run outta here or be taken to the Stocks on account o' yer lily-white hide, lass!" As Rhandall started to reach out to grab her, Liam slapped his hand down on the dwarf's thick arm, and shoved him back several paces.

"Stay your hand and calm yourself, Rhandall," Liam said sternly. "No one is going to the Stockades; not you, or I and especially not her."

"What!?" Rhandall stared up at his companion in disbelief. "B-But, you heard the Marshall just now--!"

"Yes, but he did say we had two hours to leave Goldshire. That is time we should not be wasting." Liam looked at Freaja. "Lady, I'm sorry, but we must leave this place."

"I am not deaf, human," Freaja said archly. Straightening up, she only barely caught herself as she staggered against the steps.

"Nae, but ye may not be healed enough tae travel," Hanna said, shoving Rhandall aside to step up to Freaja's side. Reaching up to take the blood elf by the arm, she turned towards the top of the stairs. "Come, ye'll need help--."

Jerking her arm back, Freaja glared at the dwarf woman. "I do not need . . . ugh!" She reached up to hold her head as a sudden wave of dizziness came over her.

Hanna just scowled, but it was tempered with tolorance as she reached out again to the elf woman. "Perhaps, but ye need some fer th' 'nonce. Come. We'll get ye dressed fer travel, an' no arguing, lass." Glancing at Liam, she said, "Laddie, best ye an' my cousin go an' get th' mounts ready. We'll be joinin' ye presently."

Liam nodded. "We shall be waiting in the stables, Hanna." He looked at Freaja for a moment longer, then he turned and motioned to Rhandall. "Come my friend."

Rhandall growled under his breath. "Bloody brass bollocks!" He glared at his cousin meaningfully, before he turned to follow the paladin out of the inn.

.

oOoOo

.

Stalking away from the inn, Marshall Dughan was met by several of his militia. "Sir, we've managed to kill most of the raiders," a corporal reported. "However, a few of the blood elves escaped into the woods, towards the Westfall border."

Dughan scowled as he surveyed the surrounding village. Bodies of dead Sin'dorei, fallen soldiers and a scattering of villagers lay on the ground and roadway. "Did you dispatch anyone to chase the raiders down?"

"A token few, Marshall. We're calling up every available man and woman from the garrison, and I sent word to Stormwind, to see if any soldiers from their compliment can be spared."

Dughan shook his head. "Stormwind may not wish to send anyone . . . but, we cannot let any of those raiders get away."

"Sir, but what about the inn? Should we investigate--?"

"I'll not go chasing after phatoms, Corpral!" He shot a sharp look at the younger man. _Blast that paladin! Got to send my men on a herring-chase, much as I don't want to!_ "This wasn't just a terror raid, cooked up by the Horde! Get moving, men. I want the rest of those raiders hunted down and captured to the last man!"

"Yes'sir!" With that, the corporal and his soldiers quickly left to carry out their orders.

Standing alone, Dughan snarled softly, before he shot a look back towards the inn. He spied Liam and one of the dwarves, just leaving the entrance to head for the stables near the village smithy. With a black look on his face, Dughan muttered, "That Sin'dorei had better be worth your oath, paladin. Just be thankful I gave you what time I could." With that said, he turned and marched off pass a lone vendor's cart to join his militia.

As he continued onwards, the marshall of Goldshire did not see the ripple of displaced air that shifted from behind one corner of the cart. This quickly faded, leaving behind a slim, leather-clad figure standing in the cart's dim shadow. Covered by a hooded cloak, this person peered after the departing Marshall, before turning their face towards the inn.

"_Sin'dorei_? With a paladin . . . hmm!" they said softly, before an amused chuckle followed their words. "Now, that bears some looking in to!" Without another word, the cloaked figure slipped along the back side of the cart, fading back into the cover of their steath spell . . . .

.  
.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	5. Chapter 5

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Five

The smithy across from the Gold Lion Inn not only offered travelers and the local populace of Elwyn a place to purchase forged goods and weapons, but it also offered space as a stable for mounts and animals for as long as the blacksmith had lived there in the village of Goldshire.

Currently inside the high-roofed structure that served as the stables, only a few mounts were being kept within; a few horses, and a pair of shaggy rams. As of that moment, one of the rams was being saddled by the grumbling, muttering Wildhammer dwarf, who shot his human companion a black look every few seconds as they both moved around their respective mounts.

"Blasted, no-good, she-elf!"

Liam mac Roi shifted the riding saddle off of his chestnut mare, turning around to place it on a nearby saddle-rack. Patting her nose softly, he said to Rhandall, "We'll be quick to finish this without your insestant complaining, my friend."

"Oh, I haven't e'en begun t'complain, Liam . . . not after this bloody, dutch-pickle yer high-falootin' mores have gotten us intae!" Rhandall jerked the strap on his ram's saddle hard, making the beast grunt sharply. "Bad enough we had t'get mixed up wi' some Hordie's inner spat wi' her own people, but now we have t'get our backsides out o' Goldshire or else we'll be thrown in prison!" He snorted, before saying, "I haven't e'en gotten enough beer nor stout in any decent sort o' quantity t'prepare fer another journey."

"Right now, strong drink should be the last thing to worry about, Rhandall," he said. "With the short time we've got remaining." He slung a pair of packs off of the saddle and looped them over his shoulder, before walking to where a low, box wagon sat in the open space between the paddocks. "We need to be on our way out of Goldshire before Marshal Dughan returns."

"Ye don' need t'remind me on that score, lad," Rhandall said, huffing as he walked around to grip the side of the bridle on his ram and led it out of the paddock towards the wagon, Guiding the black-wooly beast into place on the yoke, he said, "An' just where in th' world are we s'posed t'go then?"

"I've been considering our options, Rhandall," Liam said, tossing his saddle bags into the wagon bed.

"Considerin' our options!?" Rhandall wheeled towards Liam with a pinched face. "Laddie, we're smack in th' middle of Stormwind's lands, wi' no real easy direction t'be headed to from this place. What wi' th' Badlands tae th' east, an' Westfall an' all th' rest bein' so heavily patroled by Alliance troops--?"

"True," Liam said. "when you put all of that into perspective, it does pose a rather difficult obstacle to our departure." Turning to a nearby saddle-rack, he removed another riding saddle and quickly strapped it to the mare. Looking at Rhandall, he added, "In the meantime--."

"In th' meantime, we'd best figure out somethin', Liam . . . or like it or not, Dughan or some other member of the Constabulary will certainly see that bloody elf-woman an' then we'll all be thrown in th' Stockade!"

"Trust me my friend, we will find a way through. I am with you on not spending the rest of my days in an Alliance prison--." Pausing, the paladin caught the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning towards the entrance of the stables, he spied two figures moving as quickly as they dared, walking underneath the low wooden doorway. "Hanna. Are the two of you--?"

"We're as ready as we can be, laddie." Hanna was carefully leading the taller blood elf Freaja along by her right arm, while holding the last of the trio's travel packs on her other arm. Clad in a simple blue shirt and kilt, with some worn traveler boots on her feet, Freaja only stumbled a bit as Hanna led her to a halt to prop her up against the closest paddock.

Liam noted she still looked a bit weak, but her overall appearance was improved from before. "Did our lady give you much trouble, Hanna?"

"Nae, fer all she's a bit o' a grumble-grox." Hanna wrinkled her nose, smiling with good humor. "Th' barmaid ye rescued was kind enough tae lend yon lassie some clothes fer travelin', though I doubt she'll be ready tae attend any social functions soon. These aren't th' vestments of a Highborne, after all."

"Be as that is, it was good of that woman to offer us aid." Liam looked at Freaja, clearing his throat before saying, "Lady Freaja, forgive us, but we will have to make some rather hasty arrangements for our departure."

Gathering herself, Freaja shrugged and pushed off the paddock wall so she could stand without assistance. "You do not need to apologize," Freaja said. "I understand . . . our situation."

Nodding, Liam looked back towards the chestnut mare in the paddock behind him. "Are you familiar with riding mounts?"

Freaja nodded. "I have the training, human. Though I've not often ridden double, I can--."

"We won't need to do that, my Lady." Liam said. "You'll be riding my horse."

Blinking, Freaja asked, "Your horse?"

"Yes, I will ride another mount, more suited for this journey."

"What will you ride--?" Freaja barely got the question out, before a low, rumbling growl echoed from the rafters above them. When she looked up, a large, shadowy mass tumbled down and landed with a _thud!_ in front of her. Letting out a surprised cry that sounded more like a squeak than a yell, Freaja stumbled backwards, landing on her rump in the sawdust.

"Lassie?!" Hanna started to turn to help her, but it was Liam's warning that made her stop.

"Peace, Hanna! Lady Freaja, do not move!"

Staring up into the wide, grey eyes of the beast that was crouched in front of her, Freaja didn't reply as she froze in place. Her own eyes darting about like skimmer-bugs on a pond, she took in the white and grey spotted coat, the sharp claws on each paw and a large riding saddle strapped just behind its powerful shoulders. With it's feline muzzle parted to expose sword-length fangs, the large 'cat sniffed at the blood elf; a deep, quizical growl slipping from its mouth.

_Blessed Sun!_ Freaja thought. _A Darnassian sabercat?!_

"Sabine," Liam said, moving to the side of the 'cat as he reached out to grip one side of the 'cat's war-saddle. "Peace, girl . . . this elf lady is no threat." The 'cat turned its head towards Liam, making a chuffing sound before it butted its flat forhead against his body. With a chuckle, Liam reached up and rubbed his fingers behind one of Sabine's peaked ears. Turning, he leaned down to offer a hand to Freaja. "Come, my Lady. We'll never make good time if you remain sitting down."

Freaja frowned, but allowed him to assist her to her feet. Looking at the riding 'cat, she asked, "How is it that you . . . have one of the mounts of the Kaledorei, human?"

Liam replied, "When I was still a young knight in training. I served abroad in Kalimdor, and for assisting the Night Elves in service to their leaders, I was granted the honor of having been given one of their sabercats."

From behind them, Rhandall snorted. "Nearly forgot ye had that overgrown mouse-catcher, Liam."

Liam said simply, "I only keep her near, when I know that I will need her." He slapped Sabine's side, then murmured, "Down, girl."

The 'cat looked at Freaja intently, before it growled softly and slowly lowered itself to the stable floor; waiting to be mounted for riding.

"I . . . forgive me. It is not something I am used to seeing, human," Freaja said.

"Um, Lassie, th' man does have a name." Hanna looked at her pointedly. "T'would be more respectful t'be callin' him Liam or Knight, rather than just 'Human'."

Freaja started to speak, but Rhandall cut her off as he said, "We don' have time fer all this talkin' and pleasantry, or have ye forgotten what that Marshal said!?" Scowling, he led both his and Hanna's rams out of their paddock. "We've got t'get movin' here!"

Liam sighed. "Rhandall is right. We should be moving . . . and, we can decide what to do about getting past the guardians on the road." As the dwarves saw to their own mounts, he said, "Lady Freaja, allow me to help you." He motioned to Freaja, indicating that she should go to the mare waiting in the other paddock.

"I can--!" She stopped herself, before sighing with sour resignation. "Fine, I accept your assistance, hu--. I mean, paladin."

"I am only here to serve, my Lady."

Freaja frowned again, but held her tongue as Liam guided her to the side of the mare. He took a moment to adjust the saddle and reins, but before he could cup his hands to allow her to step up, she surprised him by nimbly stepping into the stirrup and swinging over to sit sidways onto the horses' saddle.

Moving back a bit, Liam lifted the corners of his mouth a bit. "Well, you do prove to be capable of mounting a horse, Lady . . . still, we shall go as gently as possible, so you will not be injured further."

"Well, can we just be goin', Liam?!" Rhandall said gruffly. The dwarf suddenly stopped his rant, going stiff as a bowstring as he whirled towards the back of the stables.

"What is it, Rhan?" Hanna asked. The 'cat jerked its head around sharply, staring at Rhandall with a growl.

"Sumthin's . . . or someone's, here, I--?" His hands dropped down to the pair of axes on his belt, just as his eyes shot up towards the ceiling. "Liam! Behind ye, lad!"

Whipping around, Liam only got a fraction of a moment to look, before a dark shadowy shape dropped down from above his horse to land on the saddle behind Freaja. Braced with their free arm around Freaja to immobilize her, the dark-clad figure peered out from their hood, skewering the paladin with a hard stare.

"My Lady--!?" Liam's hands were going for his sword, only to halt when he heard the elf-woman gasp; the long edge of a war dagger gleamed in the lantern light, pressed against her throat.

"Don't move. Any of you!" The black-clad figure pressed the blade in close to Freaja's throat. "And hold back that fanged kitten too, Knight!"

Liam moved to restrain his 'cat-mount. Siezing Sabine by the scruff, he said firmly, "Sabine, hold!" The 'cat snarled softly, its claws emerging to dig into the hay-strewn floor beneath it, but it did not charge.

Seeing that everyone would obey for the moment, the attacker snickered. "Well, well. This is an interesting picture . . . especially with a Hordie here in the middle of Goldshire."

"You will not harm Lady Freaja," Liam said.

"Oh, I won't?" A chuckle came from inside the black hood. "Perhaps not. Then again, it seems to me someone among Stormwind's peacekeepers would want to learn about this . . . clandestine group within spitting distance of their gates."

Rhandall snarled softly. "Bleed th' elf if you dare, Black Leg . . . but ye'll ne'er get the chance tae blab about it, if I have anythin' t'say about it!"

"Rhan, let's nae get our hackles in a knot just now!" Hanna said. "We don' want to endanger th' lass."

"I'm nae worried 'bout her, cousin . . . just my own hide, if this Black Leg tells th' Constabulary 'bout our bein' involved wi' her!"

Liam shot Rhandall a dark look.

"Now, now, we're supposed to be friends here, dwarf?" The darkly-dressed figure laughed. "Or are you three just traitors to the Alliance? Seeing as you're helping a member of the Horde, here."

"We are not traitors. Lady Freaja is merely a misfortunate soul, who is under my protection until she can be returned to her own people." Liam said.

Another chuckle. "A likely story, I think. One that the local magistrate will be hard pressed to believe . . . or don't you think you can come up with a better excuse, you tin-plated do-gooder? I know I certainly can."

At that, Liam jerked back in surprise. Recovering, he suddenly straightened from his defensive crouch and crossed his arms with a snort of good humor. "I am certainly open to any suggestions you may have."

"What are you doing, paladin!?" Freaja said, shocked to see him suddenly change his demeanor. "You swore to--!"

"I swore to protect you from danger, my Lady. Though you are hardly in any danger in her arms. Unless you've a heavy purse upon you." Liam said, before he arched one eyebrow at the dark-clad human sitting behind her.

Freaja was struck dumb in shock. "A . . . a what--?"

"Peace, Lady. Release her, now, Trissa."

At that, the blade at Freaja's neck withdrew as the hooded figure laughed before slipping down to the stable floor. "You never did fall for my intimidation ploys, Liam mac Roi." With a flip, the stranger tossed back their hood to reveal a female face; offset with amber eyes and long hair that was so blond it was practically white. Pursing their lips, the woman added, "Then again, you were always too stiff in your spine to be that scared of me."

Staring in shock, both Rhandall and Hanna were unable to speak for a moment. Then, the older dwarf snarled and thrust an accusing finger at the woman. "Trissa Twinblades! You, you, you blasted, no-account, rascally daughter of a Defias!"

With a rueful chuckle, Hanna added, "Bless ye, lassie, yer timin' is as attrocious as ever. Yet, 'tis guid tae see a friendly face."

"When I wish to be, it's always good to be seen," Trissa said. "But usually for most, I'm the last thing they ever see!" Moving closer to Liam, she reached up and rapped one gloved fist against his shoulder guard. "And you, Sir Liam? Did you miss me, too?"

Shaking his head, Liam said simply, "Only when things become boring, rogue."

"So, that is how it's been lately?" Trissa said archly. She tipped her head back in Freaja's direction. "You've gotten so bored that you've started traveling with Hordies?"

Looking up at Freaja and seeing the semi-bewildered-yet-quickly-turning-cross expression on her face, Liam cleared his throat before saying, "Not by choice, Trissa." He turned the woman around to face the mounted Sin'dorei. "My Lady, let me introduce to you . . . an old accquatence of mine. Trissa, this is Lady Freaja."

Turning, Trissa reguarded the elf with a grin. "Sorry about the knife. Old habits die hard."

Freaja scowled, rubbing her throat reflexively as she stared at her. From what she could see, this rogue was of an average height and size -- though with more womanly-curves that a Sin'dorei, clearly. -- and covered from neck to foot in dark leather armor. A pair of wickedly-long daggers and a one-handed sword hung from her belt, among a motley collection of small pouches and bags.

"Lady? Did she hurt you by accident?" Liam asked, when Freaja remained silent.

"Hardly, thank the Eternal Sun," she said crossly. "Are all of your friends so inclined to attack someone first and bandy words afterwards, paladin?"

At that, Trissa cocked her head. "Aw, get your pride hurt, Redhair? Next time I'll just leave you just a little cut to remember me by."

Bristling, Freaja started to say more, but Liam's voice cut off her tirade before it could begin. "Trissa, now is not the time for this. It is good to see you, but we do need to depart Goldshire as quickly as we can."

"Yes, I got that much from what Dughan was saying a short while ago," Trissa said, before she glanced at the sharp looks from Freaja and the dwarves. "I overheard him speaking to some of the Constabulary. That's how I knew where to come looking for you."

"We take it th' Marshall's still nae too charitable towards us, then." Hanna said.

"More like he's fit to burst into flames, friend," Trissa said. "He's stirred up the whole of Westbrook and Goldshire, chasing after the survivors of that raid that hit here."

Liam nodded. "We helped to stop the raid, but for some reason I believe they were not here to attack the village in a terror raid." He looked at Freaja pointedly, before he added, "Because I told Dughan that she is under my protection, he gave us two hours to leave Goldshire."

Trissa grimaced. "That, might be a problem then. What with the raid that just happened, the roads leading out of the village have been under double-patrols for nearly a week. The Defias have been stepping up their own activity, so the garrison at Westbrook is under orders to keep on the roads until relief can come from Stormwind."

Rhandall slapped his hands against his thighs in disgust. "Well, that's done for us then! We canna' get through by th' road, an' it'd be invitin' folly t'go overland if those Redfaces are out in force."

"Defias?" Freaja asked.

"Bandits, Redhair. Nasty ones to boot." Trissa said. "Makes dealing with Hordies seem almost preferable, by comparison." She arched one eyebrow. "At least we know where we stand with the Horde . . . but the Defias? Hellfire, you can't ever tell what they're thinking half of the time."

Freaja frowned. "Just what did you do by saving me, paladin, if only to put me into this sort of mess!?"

"We won't be getting anythin' done by arguing, Lassie." Hanna said, before looking to Liam. "Besides, there's a point that's more important than those bloody Redfaces. Gruff as our lass sounds, Liam, she won't last long goin' overland e'en if we were to try t'make Westfall or Duskwood."

Rhandall snorted. "Aye, so if we tried keepin' tae th' roads, were as good as pork, Cousin. So, what can we do?"

Rubbing his chin, Liam frowned as he mulled the situation over. "If we cannot go overland, or by road, then there is only one other viable option for us." Sighing, he looked at Freaja and said, "We shall have to risk going into Stormwind and using a ship to reach Auberdine and--."

"Liam! Yer not thinkin' straight! We canna' just waltz right through the main gates wi' a bloody Hordie like her!" Rhandall cried, stabbing a finger at Freaja. "E'en if you tried t'cover her up in disguise, th' guards would'nae be fooled for one moment!"

Trissa nodded. "I hate to agree with Cousin Redbeard there, but he's right. The gate guards have been getting damn good at detecting disguised Hordies lately. Too many have tried slipping past to cause mischief inside the walls."

Freaja asked with tired exasperation, "Is there nothing you can do then? You gave your word, paladin--!"

"And I shall, Lady," Liam said, cutting her off as he suddenly straightened up; the light in his eyes making his face glow with inspiration. "We will go through the gates, as I said . . . but none of the guards will even notice you."

"Just how do you plan to manage that, Liam? I just told, you, that . . ." Trissa's voice trailed off, as she saw the sudden, intense look the paladin shot her, just before her own face filled with an expression of denial. "Oh, no. No, no! I know what you're thinking, Liam mac Roi and you can just forget it!" Trissa turned and started to bolt, but she jerked to a halt when an armored fist grasped her shoulder and tugged her backwards.

Liam said evenly, "Trissa, I know you would not normally wish to help me--."

"Not unless ye paid her dearly enough," Rhandall muttered.

"However," Liam went on to say, "What I am thinking is just the sort of thing that requires your particular brand of skills."

"Fine, then find another rogue to do it!" Trissa whirled around and frowned at him. "Because I won't--!"

"Aren't you his friend, rogue?" Freaja asked, arching one eyebrow at their exchange.

Trissa's face snapped around, firing off a scathing look towards the elf woman. "We only know each other through happenstance, as if you need to know--!"

At that, both Liam and the dwarves started to chuckle. "As I recall, lass, ye were in a right prickly pickle when Liam first met ye," Hanna said.

"Aye," Rhandall grinned. "If he had'nae stepped in, yer pretty white neck would'a been stretched right tight above th' gates o' the Stockade. After all, one doesn't just waltz intae one o' the finest homes in Stormwind an' pilfer the Highlord's best pretties, eh?"

At that, Freaja couldn't help but not mask her grin. "So . . . you were just a common thief?"

"I prefer the title 'professiona borrower', elf!" Trissa felt her cheeks burn. "Besides, It's not like I needed his help, then."

"True, but I need your help now, Trissa." Liam's grip on her shoulder eased. "Consider it a repayment, for my helping you avoid an untimely end to your . . . career, hm?"

Trissa stared at Liam, her eyes bright with indignation as she worked her jaw from side to side. Then, seeing the look on his face, she shrugged his hand off and sighed. "Oh, fine, fine! But, after this, I, owe, you, nothing!"

Liam merely smiled. "Consider the ledger balanced, then."

Freaja sighed gustily. "So, perhaps now that you have come to an accord, can you tell me just what you are planning between the two of you?"

"What I was going to ask, actually," Rhandall said.

At that, Trissa glanced at Liam, before she turned to look at Freaja with a half-smirk on her lips. "Something that I usually only do for myself . . . but, considering the circumstances, it's something that you, ah, may not find to your liking, Redhair."

At that, Freaja's eyes shot wide open. "Oh, really . . . ?"

.

oOoOo

.

Moments later, Freaja muttered softly, "I, really, don't like this!"

Under her breath, Trissa said, "I told you so, so try to seethe a little quieter, Redhair! We're getting close to the gates!"

Seated behind the Sin'dorei woman on Liam's mare, the rogue had both of her arms wrapped around Freaja's body as she cast her stealth spell over them both. With the mare's reins tied to the side of a common wagon, the two women tried to be quiet as they could. Hanna herself was driving the wagon, while the two hunting cats that belonged to her and her cousin were resting in the back. Riding ahead of them, Liam was astride his sabercat mount; the feline padding along with ease. Following beside the cart was Rhandall, riding his white ram, while Hanna's tan one followed while being tied to the other side of the wagon.

_No stranger a company was ever seen._ Liam mused as he glanced back at the others briefly before facing forwards. As they approached the high, stone archway that was Stormwind's main entrance, Liam could see two guards observing them while they stood beside either side of the wide open gates. His own training allowed him to partially see through the spell Trissa was projecting, to confirm she and Freaja were still with them -- a fact that the soliders who guarded Stormwind also shared that particular skill as well.

_I'm going to have to make sure they don't suspect anything to make use of it. Or else this calm stroll into the Alliance captial is going to turn into a running battle . . . against my own people!_

.  
.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	6. Chapter 6

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Six

Sergeant Hobbs eyed the approaching group of individuals -- an armored man on a Darnassian sabercat, next two two dwarves on a wagon, with a horse tied onto the open buckboards following behind them. Looking over at his analog on the far side of the massive main gates that crowned the thoroughfare leading into Stormwind, he hitched up his shoulders and stepped out in front of them.

"Hold! Stand to, sir!"

Pulling up short on his feline mount, the auburn-haired man motioned to the dwarves on the wagon to stop. "Yes, Sergeant?" Liam said.

"I must ask that you present your papers, please?"

Nodding, Liam eased his 'cat mount up next to the standing guard, before reaching into a saddle bag to remove a leather-cased sheaf of papers. "My standing orders of Marque, Sergeant." he said, handing them over.

Hobbs took them and opened the leather flap to peer at the top-most sheets of parchment. After a moment, he nodded. "All seems to be in order, Sir. May I also ask your business in Stormwind today?"

Liam nodded to the wagon behind him. "My friends seek to use the Deeprun to return to Ironforge, while I myself must report to the head of my order in the Cathedral of Light, later this day."

Hobbs gave the two dwarves a short look, but he merely nodded. "Very well. Pass on, friend and welcome once more to Stormwind City." He handed the papers back to Liam, before nodding to the other guard. "Let them through." he said aloud, before waving both the paladin and the wagon forward.

.

oOoOo

.

Giving Sabine a nudge with his heels, Liam led the way towards the high arch of the main gate. Not looking back, he prayed to the Light that the guards were focusing on him and the dwarves . . . and not on the apparently empty saddle of the mare tethered behind the wagon.

_Should they be so inclined, they may discover the two extra passengers there, and then this whole affair will become all for naught!_ He half-expected the guards to suddenly call out in alarm, but thankfully no cry was raised and they continued onwards, through the stone archway and into the stone-lined causeway beyond. With a soft sigh, he straightened up and wrapped the reins of his mount tightly around both fists. _The first part is done. Now comes the hardest part . . . getting the rest of the way through Stormwind, to the Deeprun!_

.

oOoOo

.

Sitting in the mare's saddle, Freaja had nearly been holding her breath for what felt like ages while Liam had spoken to the human guard. The blood elf woman's heart had been beating so loudly in her ears, she felt it had certainly given her away. When they started moving again, she couldn't help but fidget while holding on tight to the saddle of the mare.

"Be still, elf!" Trissa Twinblades whispered, pitching her voice low to keep from being heard by the Stormwind guards. "Give us away, and I'll throw you at the guards myself!"

Glancing at the guards as they rode past, Freaja gave the white-haired, leather-clad human woman sitting at her back an arched look.

Shaking her head, to reinforce Freaja's continued silence, Trissa focused on maintaining the stealth spell that enveloped them both.

_This rogue must consider it a high thing to do,_ Freaja thought. _To risk this much, just to settle a debt owed to this . . . paladin._s She scowled crossly. _This whole affair is ludicrous! The fact that this human had sworn to protect me until I can be returned to Quel'thalas--!_ She bit back another angry retort, mindful of Trissa's arched look as she tried to maintain her silence.

Once past the gates, Freaja could see that they were now on a large, stone causeway; arching high over a natural basin that formed a barrier between the lands outside the gates and the massive walls of Stormwind City itself.

However, it was the massive, stone statues that flanked the causeway that made her gasp with awe.

"What, are, all of these?" she dared to whisper to Trissa.

Trissa flicked a glance upwards, following the blood elf woman's gaze, before she gave a short, soft laugh. "You're in the Valley of Heroes, Redhair," she whispered back. "These are all members of the expedition that went through the Dark Portal . . . to battle the Orcs on the shattered world of Draenor."

Freaja nodded. _I remember the tales told of that--._ Craning her neck to look upwards as they passed by, Freaja marveled at the huge statues -- the first two being a stoic-looking human and an armored dwarf in a heroic stance. A sharp look at the plaques at their bases revealed the names of them both: Danath Trollbane and Kudran Wildhammer.

Trissa caught the expression on Freaja's face. "You're probably one of the few Sin'dorei to ever see it up close, while not part of a Horde raid."

Freaja didn't reply. _True . . . but, can I honestly say I'd be willing to be a part of such a--!_ She stopped thinking when they got close to the next set of statues, as her eyes were drawn to the tall, stately form of a female elf on the right. This statue was poised with a war bow in hand, while a spread-winged falcon perched on the elf woman's raised arm.

"By the Eternal Sun!" she hissed softly. "I . . . I recognize that woman!"

Trissa rolled her eyes. "Well you should, Redhair. Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner; one of the chief members of the Draenor expedition." She nodded towards the center of the end of the causeway. "Hush, we're coming close to another guard checkpoint."

Freaja nodded, but it was her thoughts that kept her from speaking as the party rolled to a stop before a few more guards. She glanced up again at the regal elf woman's visage; seeing the calm strength the stone-carver drew from the gray stone. _Alleria Windrunner. She was Lady Sylvanas' older sister . . . a legend to the people of Quel'thalas._ _How strange to see her image here, displayed with such reverence, in the human's capital?_

Just then, Trissa nudged Freaja in the ribs, getting her attention. "Be still, Redhair. Something's not looking right here."

Freaja glanced at the rogue, before looking to where Liam was now dismounted and speaking to the trio of guards in front of him. That's when a large, commanding human in plate armor -- riding a powerful black stallion -- emerged from around the side of one of the stone walls and rode up to Liam.

_From the tabard and the way this human carries himself . . . he's clearly one of those in charge of the city guards. _Freaja thought. She also saw this newcomer's dark scowl, and the way several of the guards began to cluster nearby. That sight alone made Freaja suddenly fearful for herself!

.

oOoOo

.

"Liam mac Roi," the dark haired man said, staring down at the paladin.

Liam nodded. "General Marcus. What can I do for you?"

Marcus Jonathan, the General in charge of Stormwind City's garrison force, tipped his head in acknowlegement. "You must come with me, Knight." He nodded towards the direction he had come from. "I have orders to bring you to King Varian Wrynn, with all due haste."

That got Liam's hackles to raise, yet he asked calmly, "May I ask to what purpose, Sir?"

"You may not," Marcus said flatly. "You are also not permitted to refuse."

That statement alone made Liam worry. "Might I at least ask what my friends may do, Sir? I am duty-bound to escort then back to the High-Thane's seat in Ironforge."

General Marcus shook his head. "Your companions are free to continue on, but you must come with me. I must insist you do not delay further, Sir Knight."

Liam nodded. "I understand." He started to head for his mount.

"Leave your 'cat," Marcus said. His expression was unflinching in the face of Liam's questioning stare. "Your personal mount must remain with your companions, Knight, along with your weapons. With reports of raids among the outlying lands beyond the city, King Wrynn insists that security be tightened up."

"Very well," Liam said. Unlimbering his sword, he handed it over to another soldier. "As one of the King's defenders, I will always obey his orders. Please, allow me a moment, while I speak to my friends, General? I will come with you after I make certain where we may meet after my meeting with his Highness." When Marcus nodded, Liam bowed and turned to stride up to the side of the wagon. Looking up at the dwarves, he sighed. "It seems I am summoned to meet with the King."

Rhandall stiffened. "What th' devil does he want ye for?"

"I don't know . . . only that I am wanted, not _any_ of you." Liam cast a slight look towards the horse tied to the side of the wagon. "It is best that you two continue on to the Deeprun, as we planned. I will catch up to you as soon as I have leave to do so."

Hanna pressed her lips together. "Not knowin' what King Wrynn wants from ye, Laddie, that might make for a long time for catchin' up wi' us."

"Aye that's a fact, Liam. Who knows what sort o' trouble we _all_ could run into." Rhandall snorted.

"Nevertheless, I cannot delay further. You must continue on to Ironforge." Liam shot an almost-bored glance over his shoulder at the waiting General and his men.

"Well . . . there's an inn in th' Dwarf District, just around th' corner from th' Deeprun. We'll wait for ye there." Rhandall shot a discrete glance over his shoulder, muttering, "All o' us."

"Agreed then." Liam stepped back and nodded. "I'll be along as soon as I am able."

"Just see that ye don't get yerself tied up, Liam. We cannae go on wi'out ye." Hanna said.

Turning back towards General Marcus, Liam glanced at the seemingly-riderless horse before saying softly, "I will not abandon you, my friends. Until we meet again, later."

"Aye, that we will," Rhandall said, before he goaded the two rams and the wagon lurched forwards, heading towards the right side of the main entrance.

Moving to join the armed soldiers clustered near the mounted Stormwind defender, he said to General Marcus, "Sir, I am at the King's service," he said with a bow.

General Marcus turned and motioned to one of the soldiers. "Bring up a horse for the knight."

.

oOoOo

.

As the others started moving off towards the right-hand entryway into Stormwind City, Freaja glanced back at Liam -- catching him handing off his weapon to another guard. Tensing, she almost jumped out of the saddle when she felt Trissa jab her in the ribs.

"Watch yourself, elf," Trissa muttered.

"But, he--?" She hissed back.

"He's in no more danger than a rabbit kit with its mother, Redhair," Trissa said. "The King's probably going to congratulate him for stopping your kinfolk from ravaging Goldshire further." She didn't blink when Freaja shot her a dark scowl. "Besides, there's nothing we can do about this now . . . unless you want to be caught?! So, keep quiet until we can get to a safe place, then I can drop this stealth spell!

Freaja could only nod, keeping her silence as they waited for the guard to place Liam's weapon on his frostsaber mount; which Rhandall took charge off, tying it up to his riding ram.

_I don't understand. _she thought. _Why do I suddenly feel . . . afraid. Not for myself, but . . . for that paladin?_

.

oOoOo

.

Heading down the cobbled streets, Liam followed behind General Marcus' stallion in silence, until the paladin realized that they weren't heading towards Stormwind Keep. "General? Were are we meeting the King?"

Without looking behind him, Marcus said, "You'll see soon enough, Knight." That said, the cluster of armed men soon turned a corner, emerging before a tall, imposing stone edifice.

Liam blinked. "The Stockade?" _Why would King Wrynn want to meet here?_ he thought. He flicked a glance towards one of the other streets, which led from the direction of the Dwarven District. _No, they could not have been discovered this quickly._

Approaching the entrance to Stormwind's infamous prison, the escort stopped and formed a loose rank behind Marcus and Liam. The General and the paladin both dismounted, just as the two guards flanking the entrance snapped to attention. A moment later, an armored figure emerged into view; a dark-haired man with strong, chiseled features who had the stance of a hardened fighter.

Taking in the sight of him, every man dropped to one knee in respect for the one true King of Stormwind. "Your Highness," General Marcus said. "We've brought the paladin Liam mac Roi, as you requested."

"Good." Varian Wrynn looked to Liam, and said, "Rise, Sir Liam. It is good to see a champion of the Order returned to Stormwind."

Standing, Liam said simply, "I am honored, my King. Though I admit . . . I am uncertain as to the why?"

Varian replied, "I shall not keep you in the dark for long, Sir Liam." Motioning towards the prison doorway, he indicated for Liam to join him before turning to dismiss General Marcus and the escort.

Together, the two men headed down from the main guard room, deep into the bowels of the Stockades. Along the dimly-lit halls, the sight of the axillary rooms and barred cells gave way to ranks of condemned prisoners and stoic guards. Murmurs of discontent echoed from every corner and nook.

From the general appearance, the atmosphere of the place was dismal . . . one that did not bode well in Liam's mind.

Eventually, King Wrynn stopped before a heavy-barred and guarded door -- which was opened by a large, armored guard who merely grunted with a nod as both men passed into the room beyond. In there, five armed guards were standing in the middle of the round chamber, with four of them bracketing a single, bounded figure that was on their knees on the cold, stone floor. The fifth man turned to greet them with a salute. "Your Highness!"

King Wrynn nodded grimly. "Remain as you are, men." He glanced at Liam, who was staring at the prisoner. "You were just recently in Goldshire, Sir Liam. When the village was raided by blood elves, hm?"

Liam nodded, never taking his eyes off of the lone Sin'dorei ranger being held captive. "Yes, my King. Both myself and my dwarven companions gave aid to repel the attack."

King Wrynn said, "My patrols captured this rogue, as he attempted to slip into the Trade District. The pursuit forced General Marcus to commit nearly a third of the city defenders in his eventual capture." With a scowl, Wrynn added, "We've questioned him at length, but he refuses to divulge the true objective of his mission . . . that is, he did refuse, until he told us that we needed to bring you here to speak to him."

Startled, Liam looked at King Wrynn. "Me, your Highness?" A knot of ice formed in Liam's gut.

King Wrynn nodded grimly. "It seems he does remember you coming to aid the garrison forces in Goldshire. Though, it is curious to me as to why he would refuse to speak without your presence." He motioned for Liam to join him, stepping closer to the bound elf. "Ranger Dar'talos . . . my men have brought Sir Liam. Now, will you tell us what your purpose in attacking Goldshire was?"

The blond-haired blood elf did not raise his head, but from the way his shoulders dipped, he was clearly in acquiescence. "Yes, human . . . now that he is here, I will tell you." With a shifting on his knees, Dar'Talos raised his head to look up at Liam; his eyes faintly glowing green as he spoke. "My leader, Ranger Neph'anis Hawkfire, was ordered into your human lands to make certain that a . . . refugee of Quel'thalas' justice was properly disposed of."

"A refugee?" Liam and King Wrynn both shared a surprised look. "You came seeking an escaped prisoner?" Wrynn asked.

Dar'Talos shrugged. "Escaped, yes . . . we simply were told that this person was a _sin'osa_, and we were to make certain they would find no sanctuary, no comfort, before we were to end their life."

Liam shot the blood elf a black look. "What crime did this person commit, that was so vile that it required the additional killing of peaceful civilians, Ranger?"

Dar'Talos merely smirked. "The _sin'osa_ committed a crime. I am not at liberty to say anything more, because my leader had been given all of the information prior to our departure from Silvermoon."

King Wrynn frowned. "You've said they are _sin'osa_? I've heard that word before." Looking at Liam briefly, he turned back to the ranger and asked, "With your raiding group scattered and mostly dead, what will happen now, that you've failed?"

Dar'Talos merely shrugged. "I cannot say. Yet, if our superiors are diligent, there will be others sent after the _sin'osa_ . . . and they will track and find them, and when they do, there will be no escaping our people's final justice, human. You may believe in that!" Looking back down at the floor, the ranger snorted. "You may take me to my prison, human. I will speak no more."

Before Liam could say anything, King Wrynn nodded to the guards. "Return him to his cell, at once." Without pause, he turned on his heel and started for the door. "Come with me now, Knight."

"Yes, Highness." Liam shot one last look at Dar'Talos -- as the guards began to lead him away -- before he swiftly moved to follow King Wrynn out of the cell block.

Outside in the hallway, the King was marching along with swift, jarring steps. "Raiders for Silvermoon's justice . . . against a refugee that has vanished since the raid's end." King Wrynn glanced at Liam. "Did you see this refugee during your actions, during the raid, Knight?"

Liam shook his head, while keeping his face schooled into a passive mask. "No, Sire. If this person was another blood elf, I did not." He glanced back behind them, before asking King Wrynn, "The ranger kept using the word _sin'osa_, Sire. What does that mean?"

"It's a word a friend told me of once. It means 'blood traitor', in Thalassian." With out pause, King Wrynn pounded up the stairs that led out of the depths. "I've reports from the Marshall of Goldshire that his men are still chasing down stragglers from the raiders that escaped; heading towards Westfall." Upon reaching the guard room, the King stopped and stared hard at Liam. "This disturbs me greatly, Sir Liam. No matter what this refugee has done, I cannot allow neither a renegade Sin'dorei nor the justice-seekers from their people to run rampant over Alliance lands."

"I understand, my King." Liam's mind was working like gears of a whirling Gnomish device. _The raiders were after Lady Freaja . . . that much is clear to me now. But, what crime could she have committed to demand such action from her own people?_

"You swear that you saw no lone blood elf in Goldshire, nor anywhere prior to your arrival there, or your actions during the raid?"

Again, Liam kept his face placid. "No, my King. None that I could say that weren't already a part of the Rangers that attacked the village."

King Wrynn studied his face for a few moments, then he nodded. "I believe you, Sir Liam. As it stands, however, I want you to remain vigilant if you remain in Stormwind. I have a feeling that, for your actions against the raiders, their fellows that escaped will possibly seek you out in retaliation."

"I shall remain vigilant, my King."

Nodding, King Wrynn said, "Good. In the mean time, I must return to my duties. We are in preparations to assemble a force to head northwards. I may have need to call on you and other members of your Order, before the week is out."

Liam arched his eyebrows. "Northwards, Highness?"

King Wrynn nodded. "Not long ago, we were attacked by Scourge strikers; right on the slopes of the city that leads to Stormwind Harbor . . . the Lich King himself has declared that he will be taking action against the Alliance and the Horde, and that strike was merely a taste of what is to come." Frowning, King Wrynn said. "I will not sit here and wait for his armies to come to Stormwind. My advisors and I are preparing for an expedition to Northrend. I will take the fight to Arthas, and make certain the Scourge will never threaten my people again."

Liam nodded, before saluting. "If you call for me, my arms and sword shall be readied for You, and for Stormwind, my King."

King Wrynn nodded, smiling grimly. "Good, that call may come sooner than you might think, Sir Liam." Returning his salute, Wrynn said, "I can always count on good, honest men like yourself. You are dismissed." With that, the King turned and left the guard room, leaving Liam alone.

Watching King Wrynn depart, Liam sighed and shook his head. _I pray to the Light for forgiveness for my small deceptions, My King . . . as I pray for the wisdom to learn just what I have involved myself with, protecting Lady Freaja?_

.  
.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	7. Chapter 7

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book One"**

**A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Seven

.  
The air of the Dwarven District was filled with a miasma of smoke -- emanating from the open-air smithies in its center -- as well as the sounds of the general industry of its occupants; the clang of metal hammers, the crackle of wood and coal stoking the bellies of the furnace-hot forges and the general grunt and bellow of dwarves and the eager chatter of gnomes.

Down the street from this locus of manpowered-progress, sat a lone inn known as the _**Odd's Bobs & Tongs**_. While the structure had been made by humans, it had been decorated with the touches and decor that made many a weary dwarven traveler from the High-Thane's city feel right at home.

However, at the moment there was one particular dwarf who wasn't feeling very cheerful, sitting out on the front porch of the inn along with the two hunting cats he and his cousin owned.

"Scorch it, blast it and beat it down to slivers!" Rhandall Sturmhahn sat with his back against one of the bracing beams of the inn's doorway. His hunting rifle cradled in his lap, the red-beared hunter reached down to give Skott an absent scratch behind one ear while he kept his eyes fixed on the arched entrance of the District's main gateway. Even though Skott lifted her silvery-spotted head to rumble a pleased purr for the gesture, it did little to settle her master's sour mood.

What could be keepin' th' lad?! Rhandall thought. This isn't good. Not wi' yon, high-mucky-muck Varian callin' Liam away like that!

At that point, Rhandall's cousin Hanna emerged onto the inn's low porch, glancing around to take in the relative calm of the close-in streets and buildings nearby, before she asked him, "No sigh o' Liam, cousin?"

Rhandall shook his head twice. "Blast and cinders, scorch and slag it all to the Abyss," he muttered.

Hanna bit back an amused snort. "Just tell me how ye really feel, Rhan."

"What does it matter? It's what's really happenin' wi' Liam that's th' whole point!" Rhandall scowled. "What in th' Devil could King Varian want with our lad's iron-clad arse, I ask ye?"

Hanna shrugged. "Who knows. Perhaps somethin' came up wi' Liam's paladin order, or King Varian might have a special request for him t'deal with, ye think?"

"What I think, is that we have tae get out o' Stormwind, before yon lass upstairs gets us intae more trouble than we can handle right now!" Rhandall shifted on his rump, grunting as he shifted his weapon to a more ready position.

"Ye know we cannae just leave Liam behind, Rhan," Hanna said. Her gray eyes fixed on his face with a hard stare. "Laddie would'nae ever think of leavin' any o' us behind."

"Do ye think I don't know that, Hanna?" Rhandall dropped his voice down from the roar it had started out in, pausing as a pair of armed Stormwind guards marched past. The two humans looked his way, but they continued on walking by without stopping. Waiting until they were out of earshot, Rhandall muttered, "We have tae figure out what we need t'do, if the lad is in some sort o' trouble. Th' last thing we need is to have him tied up in Stormwind's royal court . . . especially since we're nowhere near bein' safe, while that bloody elf-woman is still with us!"

Hanna sighed. "Rhan, we can't leave her alone!"

"I only said one of us needs tae go, Hanna. Besides, that rogue is still with us."

Hanna scoffed, "An' we both know she'll be more apt t'bolt an' report Freaja to th' guards, if she felt it would be worth any sort of coin t'do so." She looked back into the inn. "Speakin' o' which, I should head back in. It's all I can do t'keep Trissa an' Freaja from pullin' steel on each other."

Rhandall nodded, then he stiffened as his eyes spied movement in the entrance tunnel; a pair of guards were leading another horse between them, upon which was the familiar form of Liam mac Roi. "Liam!" he called out, coming to his feet.

Hanna turned, adding her own voice to welcoming their companion. "Laddie! Are ye all right?"

Liam waved, keeping silent until the horses came up to the front of the inn. As they stopped, the paladin dismounted and slid down to the stones of the street, taking a moment to nod to the guards. "My thanks, gentlemen." He waited for them to turn away and head back the way they came, before he turned and ascended the steps to meet his dwarf friends. "Hanna, Rhandall . . . good to see that you waited for me."

Clasping his arm, Hanna said, "We'd have nae left wi'out ye, Liam."

Rhadnall asked, "What was all that King Wrynn wanted from ye--?"

"Peace, my friend." Liam said, taking a moment to glance at the backs of the departing guards. "Inside, and I'll explain." Motioning for the two dwarves to precede, he followed behind, keeping a watchful eye out behind them.

Rhandall and Hanna kept their tongues in check -- with the elder cousin only making a soft summoning sound to call the two hunting cats to heel.

When they were inside the inner entryway of the inn, and out of eye and earshot of any soldiers or guards outside, Rhandall stopped and turned to frown at the tall paladin. "Well, what is it, Liam? What was so damn important that they needed ye t'see the King?"

Liam paused, leaning back against the wooden wall behind him. "They took me to the Stockades."

"The Stocks?" Hanna's eyes were wide with alarm. "Why take ye there?"

Rhandall's face turned red with sudden anger. "It's that blasted she-elf! Do they suspect--?"

"No, my friend. They don't know that Lady Freaja is with us, but they do know the purpose of the raid the Sin'dorei raiders were on in Goldshire." He straightened up and said, "Come. I must speak with our charge, before I say anything more."

Both cousins looked at each other with concern. "Okay, Laddie. I just hope this isn't going to be more trouble ahead, for us," Rhandall said in an undertone.

.

oOoOo

.

Returning to the room that the dwarves had acquired for them, the sight that greeted Liam was one of concern -- if touched with a bit of amusement.

Opening the door, the trio was met with a view of the leather-clad rogue, Trissa Twinblades, sitting on top of a very upset Freaja, whom Trissa had pinned on the wooden floorboards on her belly. The blood elf woman squirming and thrashing about, grunting as she seethed with rage. "Let me up, you, wretched, human, COW!"

"Not until you apologize, Redhair."

Snarling, Freaja craned her head around, her green eyes flashing up at the white-haired woman. "Get off of me, or I'll give you an apology you will not soon--!" She cut herself off, as she realized that Liam and the dwarves were standing in the room, watching her display of temper. "Knight! Get her to let me up! I demand--!"

"Demand all you want, elf," Trissa said smugly. "You're not getting up until you learn proper respect for humans."

Freaja made a noise of exasperation, before staring up at Liam. "Are you just going to stand there!?"

Liam, trying to smother a smile, cleared his throat and said, "Trissa . . . get off of her, please."

Trissa snapped her head around, a playful frown on her face. "Aww, must I?"

"Trissa," Liam said, his tone now broking no amusement.

"Oh, very well." Rising swiftly, Trissa danced out of the way of a parting kick aimed at her by Freaja. "Truth be told, my seat was rather . . . lumpy."

Freaja's cheeks flushed crimson. "Oh, you insensitive--!"

"Lady, please, enough." Liam stepped towards her and leaned down to help her to her feet. "Trissa, what brought this on, or do I even have to ask?"

Shrugging, Trissa merely gave him a crooked smile. "Nothing of consequence, Liam. Save that the 'Lady' and I were having a slight disagreement on the superiority of humans over elves." She shot Freaja a grin. "Namely those of the fel-touched variety."

Liam quickly put a hand on Freaja's arm, keeping her from charging at Trissa. "That's enough. Now is not the time for such arguments, nor are they ever needed." He shot a hard look at Trissa. "Need I remind you that you're baiting a Sin'dorei woman, in the deep part of Stormwind? As bad as it could get for her, it can be worse for anyone -- any one -- that has the misfortune to be caught by the guards with her."

At that, Trissa paled slightly, then she crossed her arms before turning away with a huff.

Sighing, Liam then tugged Freaja's arm to turn her around to face him. "As it stands, you should know that fact better than Trissa, my Lady. Causing a commotion, even here would spell jeopardy for you."

Freaja started to open her mouth to protest, but the calm, if stern expression on Liam's face made her falter and fall silent.

"As it stands, there is much I must speak with you." Liam stepped back a pace, fixing Freaja with a frank look. "As it stands with why I was summoned to speak to King Varian Wrynn."

"So, what was th' summons about, laddie?" Hanna asked. "Ye mentioned somethin' about th' Stocks--?"

Liam sighed. "The king himself was at the Stockades, where the constabulary had imprisoned a blood elf ranger." When he saw the shocked look filling Freaja's face, he added, "Seems one of the raiders that had attacked Goldshire had tried to get into the city, where he was captured."

"He took a risk in doing so," Trissa said archly. "Sounds like he paid for his folly."

"Why would any survivors try t'risk capture by comin' t'Stormwind, though?" Rhandall asked.

"Upon questioning him, this ranger stated they were raiding Goldshire to find a refugee of Quel'thalas justice," Liam said.

Jerking her head back, Freaja stared wide-eyed into Liam's face. "A . . . refugee of justice!?"

Hanna spoke up with surprise, "Ye mean t'say they were after yon lassie here, Liam?"

Nodding, Liam said, "Apparently, they were seeking our Lady here. The ranger, Dar'talos, said that his leader -- a Neph'anis Hawkfire -- told them that you were a _sin'osa_--."

At that, Freaja's hand shot up and slapped Liam across the face; the force of it snapping his head around, as the crack of flesh against flesh sounded like a whip strike in the confines of the room. "Do not EVER call me that, human!"

Both Trissa and Rhandall had a hand on their swords. "Don't ye strike Liam like that again, witch! Or, I'll--!"

"Hold!" Liam's voice was practically thundering, making each of his friends halt in their tracks. Even Freaja was taken aback; her own temper suddenly cooling in the face of his outburst.

In moments, Liam had his anger in check, as he slowly turned his face back towards the elf-woman. "I was not implying that is what you are, Lady. I merely repeated what the ranger said."

Freaja nodded slowly, seeing the lingering rage in his blue eyes. _Had he been an Orc or Troll,_ she thought, _he'd have struck me down in an instant._ "I . . . I am sorry."

"You should be," Rhandall growled. "Hittin' th' man who practically saved yer life--!"

"Oh, hush you!" Hanna said, giving Rhandall a shove. "Now's not th' time fer losin' tempers."

"True, but we should know the truth as to why those raiders were here in the first place," Trissa said. "It clearly has something to do with you, Redhair."

Scrunching up the side of his face, Liam felt the sting of Freaja's slap lessening. "As it stands, I do agree with my friend on one point, Lady. The rangers were clearly after you, Lady Freaja. Would you please tell us why?"

Freaja's face shifted to an expression of iron. "No. That is my own affair to tend to, I am sorry."

Trissa turned back around and said, "Sorry won't take care of an arrow in your back, if more of those Farstriders come after you, so--."

"Aye, spill it, Lass." Rhandall said, taking a step towards Freaja. "What did ye do that's so terrible those rangers have come after ye?"

Freaja shook her head. "I cannot tell you!" She shot a look at the dwarves and Trissa, before turning back to Liam. "I understand why you wish to know, but . . . this matter is my own problem to deal with. You should not get yourself or anyone else involved with it."

"Ach, that's a thin excuse. Liam, ye cannae let her just clam up like that!" Rhandall said. "She's hidin' somethin', an' I'd bet my bronze baldric on that!"

Liam shook his head. "Clearly. Yet, I will not ask if the Lady does not wish to tell." Looking at Freaja, he said, "Lady, if it is something deeply personal that prevents you from--?" When she crossed her arms with an expression of stubbornness, he sighed. "Very well, I shall not ask any further. Your secrets are your own affair, though I do pray that you will change your mind. Knowing the whole truth would allow us to be better prepared to aid you."

Hanna quickly spoke up. "Liam, don' ye thing she'd better tell us anyway? Nae matter her feelings on th' whole, 'tis clear that those rangers wanted her, an' we have th' right t'know just what for."

"Aye, havin' a bunch o' bloody elf-rangers after ye isn't somethin' any of us want, Lad." Rhandall shot Freaja a black look.

"I am sorry, my friends. For whatever the real reason for her being sought by her people is . . . I will admit I also wish to know. Yet, my code of conduct as a Knight tells me that it is not my place to ask." He ignored the shocked looks on the faces of the dwarves and Trissa. "So, I will ask you not to ask her as well."

"What!? Liam! Yer goin' way out o' yer line this time, Lad!" Rhandall turned and stomped up to the taller human. "Ye and that damned paladin's code is gonna get all of our carcasses skinned--!"

"Back off, Rhan! Yer th' one that's out o' line!" Hanna slapped a hand on her cousin's shoulder, jerking him back away from Liam. "Ye know damned well that knights o' th' Order of th' Silver Hand hold their honor code well-nigh above most else in this world."

"But, he's nae usin' his head, Hanna!"

"Then think wi' yer own head, not yer pride you worm-ridden beer-barrel!" Hanna turned her cousin around and got right up into his face. "Liam's been in charge o' any company we've been privvy to bein' a part of, an' th' lad's never led us wrong wi' any decision he's made."

"B-but--?"

"No 'buts' about it, cousin," Hanna said. "Last thing we need is for any o' us t'be rockin' th' boat, where our present situation is concerned." She scowled at him, then punched him sharply in the ribs, making him grunt. "So either stop grousin', or start helpin' th' situation, Rhan."

Rhandall just scowled back, but he said nothing more.

"Thank you, Hanna." Liam said.

"Someone needs tae keep a cool head between th' two o' ye, Laddie." She glanced at the others, before saying, "So, this still leaves us at a quandry. What do we do now?"

"What should you do? I'd say that's obvious," Trissa said. "Get Redhair here clear of Stormwind, give her a mount, provisions and point her towards Lordaeron and northwards." She shot Freaja a telling look. "She'll eventually run into a Horde party or such, and they'll see to her safe return. She'll be back Quel'thalas where she belongs."

"Oh, you insuferable human cow! If it were that simple, I'd have tried to steal my own mount and leave myself!"

"You don't strike me as the sort who could steal a copper coin, much less a mount, elf-witch," Trissa sneered.

Freaja scowled at the thief. "You will pay for that insult!"

Trissa dropped one hand to her sword. "Just try and make me."

Freaja glanced at Trissa, then back to Liam in obvious alarm.

"Trissa, enough!" Liam said, stepping in between the two women. When neither woman made a further move to antagonize each other, he sighed and faced Freaja, asking, "Lady, Trissa does make a point. If we tried to bring you to a Horde outpost--?

"You gave me your word, Knight!" Freaja's tone sounded panicked as she gave the rogue another black look. "You would see me safely to my people; the Sin'dorei."

"Wouldn't any member of the Horde do that?" Trissa asked.

"No . . . I dare not trust anyone else!"

"You've got a funny way of showing your trust, elf. You won't trust your friends in the Horde," Trissa said, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. "Yet, you're willing to trust a human like Liam?"

Freaja started to snap back at Trissa, but she restrained herself and sighed. "I cannot explain . . . but believe me, but I do know something of the honor codes of the human knighthood." She looked at Liam with a hopeful expression. "Because of this, I have no choice . . . I must hold him to his word."

Liam had been listening, his face filled with an expression of surprise and relief. _That she trusts me is a blessing. Yet, that she knows of the honor-code of knighthood--?_ "I did give you my word, Lady," Liam said. "Yet, we have a complication now. King Wrynn said that he believes these rangers will not be so swayed to abandon the chase; even though they were stopped at Goldshire and here in Stormwind."

"Ach, they're sure to be off lickin' their wounds!" Rhandall snorted.

"Don't put them off so lightly, my friend," Liam said. "They came to execute a mission. I seriously doubt that they'll retreat and return to their lands after one attempt."

"So, what do we do, lad?" Rhandall asked.

Liam frowned, looking down at Freaja; the Sin'dorei woman was clearly distraught, from the way she was twisting her hands and staring down at the floor. "We must leave Stormwind. Despite the walls, guards and patrols, there is the strong chance these blood elves will come after us."

"But, where do we go?" Rhandall asked. "If King Varian suspects more o' those Rangers are about, it's a sure thing the garrison has tightened security in th' harbor. We cannae get her out by ship."

"Aye," Hanna said, glancing at Freaja. "'Tis also certain t'be sure, we canna go o'erland if there's more o' them Farstrider bully-boys out there. An' we cannae fly out of this place, since none of us can just bring a griffin here-."

"We might not need to fly, or leave by ship as I'd originally planned," Liam said.

"Ye have somethin' in mind, Liam?"

Rhandall groaned. "Ach, no . . . I know just exactly WHAT ye've got cookin' in that cast-iron brain pan of yers, Lad."

"Then, you should know that it is the only viable option we have left for us, Rhandall."

"What's that?" Trissa asked.

"What do you plan to do, Knight?" Freaja added.

"Since we cannot go to Stormwind Harbor, nor leave the city proper to go overland, we shall have to leave the city, by using the Deeprun."

Freaja cocked her head. "The Deeprun?"

Hanna explained, "'Tis a mechanical conveyance, lassie. Built by the Gnomes of Gnomeragan. It runs through a tunnel, which connects Stormwind with Ironforge."

Rhandall stomped his foot. "An' Ironforge is th' last, bloody place we should be bringin' th' likes o' her! If ye think what King Wrynn an' his people would do to her as harsh, King Bronzebeard an' our people would make that look like a spring picnic in comparison!" He shot daggers at Liam.

"It is our only option, Rhandall!" Liam's voice rose again, but he quickly mastered it. "From Ironforge, we can go through Dun Morogh to Menthil Harbor." He quickly sketched a path in mid-air. "From there, we can find passage on a ship to Southshore, and find our way to Lorderon, the Highlands and beyond."

"But, that's smack in th' middle of Dwarf lands, Lad!"

Trissa spoke up, saying, "It's risky, dwarf, but at least Liam would be far away from these rangers that still believe she's still here in Alliance lands." She gave Liam an arched look. "That is, provided they would still search for her out there, in Elwynn--?"

"They would not believe that _unless_ someone told them about _her_ not being here in the first place," Liam said, staring right back at her.

Trissa blinked. "What . . . you expect _me_ to go with you?"

"Wait, who said anything about bringing _her_ with us?" Freaja asked pointedly.

Trissa nodded. "What she said."

Liam crossed his arms and stared hard at the rogue. "It's important that Freaja's whereabouts is not revealed to anyone, after we attempt to leave this place. Hanna and Rhandall are coming with me, so--."

"So, you think that I must come along, to keep her from being discovered, is that it?" Trissa stepped up close to Liam, making the tall man move back a pace as she thrust a finger up into his face. "Liam mac Roi, if you think I'm going to be dragged out of Stormwind just on your say so, you're dead wrong!"

"But what is to stop you from telling someone that I was ever here, in your city?" Freaja asked.

Trissa glared at the blood elf, before she looked at Liam. "Liam . . . In all the years you've known me, have I ever betrayed a confidence that really mattered to you? Now, have I?" When Liam shook his head, she asked, "And have I ever gone back on my word to you?"

"'Tis not yer word we're concerned for, Lass. It's the fact th' wrong words in th' right ears would bring a lot o' trouble tae Liam and us." Rhandall said bluntly.

Liam said gently. "Trissa, I would never question you or your . . . thieve's integrity. But, can that also apply to myself and our friends here? Especially when we all know that you've always made it known your services can be paid for . . . with the right price."

Trissa snorted. "Since when do you doubt my--?" She paused when she saw the look in Liam, Hanna and Rhandall's eyes. "Oh, fine. So you won't be troubled by Stormwind's guards, I swear by the Light that I'll keep the knowledge about her from anyone's ears. I even treat it like I keep my gold."

"In yer money pouch an' close t'yer heart, lass?" Rhandall said knowingly, getting a chuckle from his cousin.

"Oh, you bearded bastard!"

"Trissa, enough," Liam said, smiling himself as he held up a hand to forestall another outburst. "For this once, your word is good enough for me. So, we'll trust you." Adding with a look for Freaja, he said, "We will all, trust you."

"Well, wi' that settled, shouldn't we get prepared t'move out?" Hanna asked.

.

oOoOo

.

In the wild woods that lay between Elwynn and Westfall, the riverside usually was dotted with small camps of Gnolls; grim, dirty and rough-shod canine humanoids. For the longest time, these groups were a nuisance to the garrison at Westbrook, and to the farmsteads that bordered the lands near the riverbank.

For the most part, the Gnolls and their chieftain -- an unscrupulous creature by the name Hogger -- did little more than steal some food and harass a few soldiers. However, on this particular day, Hogger and his tribe might have wished they were dealing with Westbrook's usual compliment of humans.

"Damned filthy--!" Taron Highraven snarled, kicking the impaled body of one of Hogger's tribe off of his sword. With a grimace of disgust, the dun-haired blood elf turned to his companions -- two more Sin'dorei rangers, who had their long bows trained on the remaining Gnolls as they cowered in the mud. "So, are these vermin willing to talk now, Saric?"

Saric grinned cruelly. "The fat one was most agreeable, after you had your . . . discussion with his ken, Taron."

"So, what were you able to learn?" Taron asked.

"What you suspected all along, Sir. There _is_ another way in and out of the human city," Saric said.

The third ranger, named Karven asked, "But, shouldn't we be searching the surrounding villages and farms for the traitor? Dar'talos was captured by the city guards! What chance would we have--?"

Taron snarled, "Dar'talos was a coward, who ran to hide instead of retreating with the rest of us! As for why we aren't searching the countryside for that wretch, Freaja Sinbelorei . . . I saw the knight and his people leaving the human village, heading directly for the city walls earlier." He whipped his sword around, making the kneeling Gnolls cringe and whimper as he stalked around them. "She is with them, and we have not yet completed the mission given to us."

Saric nodded. "But, to risk going into the human city--?" He paused when he saw the anger in the lieutenant's eyes.

"Until we are assured of Anu'dorei's death, we dare not fall back and return to Silvermoon." Taron shot a black look towards the direction of Stormwind. "We shall soon find out where this . . . other egress leads to, and when we do, we four shall continue to chase down the _sin'osa_ until her blood slakes our swords. Then, we can bring her head back to the Ranger-Captain and be done with these accursed human lands."

Saric looked to the other ranger, then nodded. "As you lead us, we shall follow you, Sir."

"Good." Taron stiffened, then turned to face the thicket around them, just as a body crashed through and emerged into the light of the Gnoll's campfire. "Hold!"

"Do not attack! It's is I; Karadin!"

Taron and the others relaxed their guard a bit, recognizing the voice of their fourth companion; a young, black-haired ranger scout. "It is about time you returned, youngster," Taron snapped. "Report."

"Sir, I've learned that the human did go to this other entry place in the human city," Karadin said. "I had to avoid many of their citizens and guards, but I have found a quick way to reach it."

"Did you find out if the human and his party has left the city through there?"

Shaking his head, the young Sin'dorei said, "No, but there are more guards being added to the front gates of the city. Too many eyes there . . . no way they could sneak the traitor out without being seen, Sir."

Taron nodded. "Good work . . . so, we will follow your quick path to this other entry way, and follow after the human and the traitor to end this mission."

Saric asked, "What if they do not leave the city by that way, Sir?"

"Think, fool! They cannot use the main gate, there is no means to fly out of the city -- for their flight masters will surely be on guard -- and the state of alert will surely lock down any ships departing from the human harbor. They are trapped! With only one way left to go, they will have no other choice." He snarled and quickly motioned to the other three. "Come, and prepare yourselves. We shall go now, before the trail turns cold."

Saric paused, glancing down at the still-cowering Gnolls. "Sir, what about these creatures?"

Taron merely gave Hogger and his whimpering pack a brief look. "Kill them, and be quick. We have our real quarry ahead of us!"

.  
.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	8. Chapter 8

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**

"Book One : The Blessed Light"  
A World of Warcraft tale

by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Eight

* * *

Freaja scowled as she lurked at edge of shadows, just beyond the stone sill of the window of the room she was standing in. From the window's viewpoint, all she could see was the tall, dim-lit stones of a sheer rock wall that climbed up and onwards into a high, craggy roof, along with the yellow-orange light cast from several iron, pot-belly braizers on the ground beneath the stone inn. Several squat, block buildings lined the lower part of the wall, mirroring the dwarf-made inn's artful-if-severe style. On the edge of her eyesight, she could also see a massive metal doorway; framed by a huge spinning cogwheel; the marker for the entrance to the Gnomish quarter called Tinker Town, deep in the heart of Ironforge.

Sighing with ill-disguised tension, Freaja said over her shoulder, "For once . . . I must agree with that damned dwarf of yours, Paladin. I should not be here."

Since she had arrived at the city of the High-Thane -- in the company of Liam mac Roi and his companions -- the Sin'dorei woman had been on edge. Rhandall and Hanna, being dwarves who'd spent a good deal of time in their racial capital, had led their company to one of the inns that lay closest to the Deeprun.

They got past the armored guards patroling the streets, using the ruse of Freaja being an ill human woman, here to visit the healers in the trade ring of the Great Forge. Once past, they quickly secreted her inside one of the upper room of the inn. Once safely behind the door of their purchased room, Liam and the dwarves had been quick to make their plans, chiefly in sending the Sturmhahn cousins out into the massive city to begin purchasing the supplies they would need to make the journey to Menethil Harbor.

But while Liam and the cousins were free to move around Ironforge without restraint, being cooped up inside the room for hours was wearing Freaja's nerves thin,

Sitting on a low bed in the corner across from her, Liam looked up from where he was sorting some items among the packs of supplies stacked around him. "Please, come away from there," he said softly. "Dwarves may have built this inn very high up, but even the most-nearsighted city guard will be able to see you from the ground below."

Sighing, Freaja stepped back from the open window. "Sorry . . . I just wish to feel, well . . . safe again."

"My Lady, I would not bring you to a place like this, if I did not believe you would be safe."

"I am not saying you did not bring me to a safe haven, Paladin. It is just, I am not comfortable being inside this, this . . . mountain!" She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "I am used to my home in Eversong. All this stone close around me, with no open spaces or trees or riverlands in sight--!"

"Well, the lands of Dun Morogh do have some of the most striking forestland in Azeroth," Liam said with a smile. "Still, I can comprehend your dislike of being inside the dwarven fortress." He stopped rumaging around in the one pack before him, looking at Freaja as she started to pace around the center of the room. Freaja was no longer wearing the cast-off clothes they'd borrowed from the grateful barmaid in Goldshire. Instead, the elf woman was wearing a blouse and belt, kilt and boots that Liam had brought from his guild's stores; having retrieved them prior to their leaving Stormwind.

Even though the outfit was made of cotton, wool and home-made leather, Freaja wore it with a bearing that -- even in her distressed state -- befitted a lady of noble bearing.

_There is more to this elf lady than it seems,_ thought Liam. _I just wish she would say more about herself, and the reason she is a fugitive from those who are named her people's staunchest defenders?_ The group had just left the human lands of Stormwind behind; fleeing via the tram-cabs of the Deeprun, not only to avoid the defenders of the human capital, but also a determined cluster of blood elven Farstriders that were on a mission to capture Freaja. She had not explained why, but Liam had learned from a captured Farstrider that they considered her a blood-traitor; a _sin'osa._ _What could a lady like Freaja done to earn such an onus, from her own kind? Being as there are so few of them left in all of Azeroth--._ Cutting off such thoughts, Liam returned to his sorting, so it would be finished before the return of his dwarf friends.

An exasperated sigh broke up Liam's further musing. Peering up from his sorting, he watched as Freaja started to moved towards the window, only to pause as she remembered his warning, before she turned and started briskly pacing back and forth once more.

"My Lady, do try to calm yourself. I understand you are agitated, but you'll only make yourself feel worse." he said.

"I just want to see the sky, and feel the air around me!" Freaja snorted softly. "It is fine for you, since you and your . . . friends are used to places like this. "We elves have our own cities," Freaja said, "yet they're nothing like this or that home of yours we left behind."

"Actually, my home isn't Stormwind. I come from a smaller village known as Northshire," Liam said. "Stormwind is where I was trained as a knight of the Order. I actually come from a family of farmers."

Freaja looked at him in surprise. "Farmers?"

Liam smiled. "My family grew grapes and other food crops. The family of Roi has long since worked the lands to provide for all of our people." He nodded with a note of pride in his voice as he added, "My father made certain to pass that legacy along to his children, my sister and my brothers and me."

"Then . . . why did you become--?" She paused, then shook her head. "It does not matter. What does matter to me is when we will be departing from this stone city?"

"We will do so, when the cousins return with the last of our supplies we need." Liam rose from his seat, stepping over the packs to stand before Freaja. "I know you are not comfortable, but try to be patient. As soon as my friends return, we shall be leaving for Menthil and then for the Northern lands."

"If that is so, then what is keeping that irritable dwarf and his cousin?" Freaja asked. She crossed her arms and frowned. "I would not put it past that one to slip away and report my presence to the city guards."

Liam couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face, hearing Freaja's comment about Rhandall. "Both of the Sturmhahns are stout and loyal friends to me," Liam said. "Though he is one of the most staunchest supporters of the Alliance, Rhandall would not jeopardize your safety, He just . . . has a strong sense of where things should be in the order of the world at large."

"Oh, he excels at making that belief known!" Freaja looked at him pointedly. "Sometimes I feel that red-bearded one deliberately wishes to see me caught and imprisoned, out of spite." She frowned, though it was a fearful expression than an upset one. "I do not wish to be caged, not like that--!"

"You won't be, Lady." Liam stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. _Clearly, the memory of her time with the slavers is still fresh inside her mind. _"By this time tomorrow, we all will be on our way and you'll not have to worry about being found out or imprisoned by the Alliance."

Freaja looked at him, a touch curiosity on her face. "Why?" When he stared at her in silence, she asked, "Why are you helping me? You've said your code is the reason . . . yet, that cannot be the sole reason you are helping me. No human has ever . . . I mean--."

"Lady, peace. I understand what you ask." Stepping back, he looked away briefly before saying, "It's true humans in the past have treated your people . . . unkindly. Just understand that I -- along with many more of my kind -- do not follow such closed-minded ways of those long since gone from the world." With a shrug, he added, "As for why I am helping you . . . believe me when I say, it is because I simply wish to see a being I consider a victim returned to her people. No more. No less."

Freaja cocked her head, staring at him. "Like myself, I fell there are things that you are not telling as well, Paladin."

"Believe that, as you wish, my Lady."

Shaking her head, she said, "What I believe does not matter, at this point." She turned away and stared at the open window again. "All I want is to be returned to my home . . . and to my family."

"We shall do all we can to assist you. Lady." Liam dipped his chin, clearing his throat lightly before he turned away. "Forgive me, I'll begin to take some of these supplies to be put onto our mounts. I will return shortly."

Freaja nodded silently, her keen ears hearing as the paladin picked up some of the prepared packs and sacks and left the room. _You're far too trusting, Freaja Anu'dorei . . . but what more can you do? This far from Eversong and Silvermoon City, without allies or friends--._ Staring out through the window, she raised her hand to place it on the window sill. _Still,_ she thought, _this paladin is something of a . . . a friend, after a fashion. At this time, I should be thankful for his help and any that I can get._ She sighed deeply. "Still, I wish I could tell him all the truth about myself, and what trouble got me in under his honor-bound protection in the first place."

"In any case," she said with a last shake of her shoulders as she shivered, "I need to get in sight of some sky, before I go mad underneath these fortress walls!" She turned, her eyes going to a set of dark robes -- they had been given to her to hide her features from the city guards. Reaching out, she plucked the robes from the chair they lay across and quickly slipped them on.

"Hmm, but the paladin is certain to notice my absense . . . unless--?!" She turned and moved towards a smaller, narrow bed that lay up against the far wall of the room, just caddy-corner to the larger bed. Taking the time to adjust a rumpled bedroll and pillow underneath the heavy blanket, she made it appear as if a body was curled up on the far end of the bed.

"A poor copy of a body, but . . . it should buy me some time to get out and breathe some clear air. As soon as she could make the blanket look just dishevelled enough, she drew the hood up to cover her ears as she ducked through the open doorway. Stopping briefly at the head of the stairs, she checked them for any sign of the innkeeper or Liam before she made her way down to the ground level . . . .

* * *

Beyond the outer gates of the city of Ironforge, the lands of Dun Morogh were still held in the clasp of winter's icy bosom. Near the stone fortifications of the High Thane's city, the evergreen trees were cloaked in mantles of snow and ice. The ground itself was hard, yet plants of every hardy sort could be seen in patches, growing through the covering of white.

It was this new world that Freaja stepped out into; emerging between a pair of massive siege engines, parked on the escarpment that overlooked the wide vista of the Dwarf Lands. Stunned, she stood there, wrapped in her cloak as she peered down the mountain side, taking it all in.

_The paladin was right. This is a strange-yet-very-lovely looking land._ Freaja blinked against a cold wind, turning to move towards a low stone wall that bordered the sudden drop from the escarpment. Far below, the lands spread out like a rugged carpet of starkness, spotted with greys, greens and dun-browns. A striking contrast to the usually green forest land of her native Eversong Woods, Freaja couldn't help but notice that despite this, the lands felt . . . alive!

_Blessed Sun . . . I can now see why such people come from a place like this, if Liam's companions are any indication of their race. _Freaja shivered again, reflexively wrapping her arms around herself. _They would certainly have to be a hardy people, to live here in this cursed cold! I thought I'd be well protected in these robes--._ Glancing down, her thoughts froze as if exposed to the sudden chill she felt, only to turn even more icy as a sudden realization hit her.

Her hands, unprotected and exposed starkly against her robe, were shaking!

"No?!" Staring, Freaja suddenly felt a dread worse than what she'd felt while she was a prisoner of the slavers. "No . . . I've not been able to meditate for weeks!" The meditation -- a practice that was at the core of it a nessesity for all of her kind -- was needed to stave off the arcane 'hunger' that all Blood Elves felt. Due to their constant use and 'feeding' of arcane and fel-energies, her people had long since learned that constant vigilance and control were paramount . . . and if not kept up, a Sin'dorei would soon fall into the withdrawl cravings and the gradual slide downwards into degration.

_Eventually . . . to become a Wretched!_ Freaja clasped her hands together, gripping each other tight to stop the violent trembling. _Great Sun Above! I need to find a source of arcane power or magicks, she told herself. Otherwise--!_

"Oh no! I've been out too long!" Freaja snarled, becoming upset with her lapse of judgement and control. "That blasted human will see that I'm gone, unless I can get back to the inn in time!" With that, Freaja turned and moved with haste back towards the city gates.

Even as she hurried, hoping to return before Liam discovered her gone, one thought was blazing like a ray of sunlight in her brain: _I just pray that I can find something to stop from becoming a Wretched, before it is too late!_

* * *

Outside the inn, Liam was silent as he settled the packs he had finished tying to his mount; the white, spotted sabercat crouched patiently beside the Cousins' two steadfast rams. Tethered to the far-side wall of the inn -- in the lee of its shadow, out of the way of foot traffic -- the mounts were calm while the paladin worked quickly to settle the loads of supplies on their saddles.

Lost in his work, Liam couldn't stop mulling over the exchange he had just taken with Freaja. _Freaja only wishes to assure herself, he told himself. Yet . . . would that I could tell her the real truth behind my offer of charity and protection. Would she understand? I doubt that even I can fully comprehend it._

Casting back into his memories, Liam recalled the first time . . . the night that he dreamed the unfolding scene before himself. Pausing as he reached for another pack on the ground next to his mount, Liam ran back over the dream; _I came upon a stone plateau . . . a vista of a strange and alien land spread out before me, as I stood before a rank and file of beings unknown to me. In sight of a city I have never been to, ever._

Shaking his head, Liam moved around to the other side of Sabine, giving the 'cat a scratch under her furry chin when she growled softly at him. _I remember . . . watching as the ranks of these strangers -- clad in armors, leathers and robes -- all receded, until they created a pathway through to the center of their collective. Walking among them, I felt a . . . kinship, yet I still do not know why. _When I reached the center, I came upon a sight I cannot quantify; a large glowing being, seemingly made of crystal and living light floated there, in the air.

_This . . . entity radiated a presence and a power that washed over me with waves of calm, patient peace._ Liam sighed deeply. _As I watched it, the being spoke, but I didn't as much hear its words, as I felt them deep within me;_ _**We have been waiting for you, paladin.**_

_Me? Who are you? Why are you waiting for me?_

_**You shall know Us, soon enough. We have been waiting . . . for You to help us.**_

_Help you . . . I am a mere human knight. I am not capable of aiding . . . one such as you._

_**You can, and You shall help us, paladin. Bring to us One that will have traveled in Darkness . . . only to have fallen and risen once again. You will find this One, to stand with you in the Light.**_

_But, who . . . who is this One? I asked. Why must I find this One?_

_The being seemed amused . . . yet, it sounded like the eldest member of my Order when it said,__** The coming Darkness can only be met with an equal of Light. You and Her, shall be that Equal, and become a symbol of new hope for all the Waking World . . . .**_

_That is when I felt a new presence with me there on the plateau._ Liam thought. _I turned as the sight of a cloaked and armored figure appeared from a shadow behind me. Stepping up to the crystal entity, the stranger knelt with reverence, before rising to stand again. With their back to me, it was hard to see who they were . . . then they turned and raised both hands to their covered head, pulling their hood away._

_Over the past few days, I could never fully see this persons face; the dream always began to fade before I could identify them._ Liam frowned. _But lately, as I was presented with this face . . . it has become more and more clear to me._

_It was the face of Lady Freaja._

Blinking, Liam looked up from his recall, peering down at the smooth leather of his mount's saddle. _What does it all mean, I wonder? Who was the entity that told me all of this . . . and why have I dreamed that this Sin'dorei woman is this 'One' I was fortold to find? _Liam looked away, towards the inn and the city's heart. _This is a mystery that I cannot solve, alone._ _I should tell Rhandall and Hanna at least, and yet . . . something like this is just not something so easily shared. Even with friends like mine._

Sighing, Liam slapped on hand down onto the seat of his saddle. "Whatever this recurring dream is meant to tell me, one thing is clear; my duty to Lady Freaja is paramount. I cannot do anything more, until she has been returned to her people." He looked up towards the upper part of the inn -- where the light glowed through the open stone window. "May the Light grant me all providence, so that I may make that good on that promise, my Lady . . . and give me the insight to one day solve the riddle that is following all of us."

* * *

Across from the inn, under the shadowed overhang that shielded the front porch of another dwarf-made home, three figures peered out with glittering eyes; watching as Liam continued with his task of loading packs and sacks.

"Is that the human?" Saric asked, looking at the other two members of the trio of Farstrider rangers.

Taron Highraven nodded with a cruel twist to his lips. "He is the one who led the counter to our raid on the human village," he said softly. "The fool . . . he could have moved further into this city or beyond, and we might have never found him! To seek refuge so close to the egress from the human city--?"

"What about her?" The youngest of the trio, Karadin, glanced around; his eyes looking constantly for roving guards. "What of the sin'osa? If the human is there, where--?"

"She would be nearby, you dolt!" Taron snarled. "She would not dare go off on her own, in the middle of one of the Alliance's strongholds . . . not unless she wished herself to be taken as a prisoner after all that she has been through!"

"So, what is your plan then, Taron?" Saric asked. "Do we wait until this human attempts to move her out of this fortress city, before we attack?"

The ranger officer frowned, studying the figure of Liam in silence. "If we wait . . . the sin'osa Anu'dorei may find the means to further shield herself from our justice," he murmured. "That cannot be permitted!"

"There is little we can do, though." Saric said. "We are too few, and this fortress has more than enough soldiers to prevent us from acting on our orders."

"It was a bad idea to come this far, Sir . . . we might be captured or worse!" Karadin stated.

"Capture or death is something we all knew would come, when we were given our orders by the Ranger-Captain!" Taron glared at the other two; his dark eyes flaring with anger and a sickly green light. "If we were to go back, with the mission incompete, do you wish to face his wrath!?" His harsh question was met by silence. "Then even if we face death, we will see this mission finished! That bitch of a sin'osa must not be allowed one more day free from our justice."

"Understood, sir."

"Still, what are we to do?" Saric said with caution. "We do not even know where she is."

Taron dropped his hand down to rest on his curved sword. "The human is clearly protecting her . . . we will get her, by making him tell us where she is hiding." Glancing at the other two, he nodded grimly. "Between the three of us, he shall pose no problem to our form of . . . persuasion."

"This human managed to stop Neph'anis, Sir," Saric cautioned.

"But, he's not armed or armored," Karadin pointed out. "Unless the dwarves living nearby interfere, it may be our best chance to take him, right sir?"

Taron nodded, smiling cruelly. "Then we should not waste this oppertunity." Looking back out towards the unsuspecting paladin, he hissed. "Come. Be quick and careful. If we can strike before the city guards are alerted . . . ."

As the trio formed their plan of attack, they soon slipped out of the shadows and stepped down onto the open, stone floor that lay between the buildings. Readying weapons underneath their concealing cloaks, the Blood Elves headed towards the front of the inn.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	9. Chapter 9

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"Book One : The Blessed Light"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Nine

* * *

The innermost part of the High Thane's city of Ironforge is a massive stone and metal works, known all over the world as the Great Forge; a massive pit of flame and heat, over which the works of metal smelting, smithing and crafting were handled by the most-skilled and dedicated of all of the dwarves. Considered by some to be the spiritual "heart" of the city, it is around this edifice that the dwarves build a ring of shops, stores and other buildings that were crucial for every-day life. From dry goods and medicines, to cloth and leathers and anything you could think of, if you needed it then this was the place to come.

Aside from the stores, there were also a few walking vendors that made the rounds along the rim of the Forge. From breads, drink and even sweet treats, these vendors complimented the wares that any weary or ready traveler could ask for.

One vendor in particular -- a gnome named Sraaz whom came from a dedicated family of bakers -- was currently being seen to by Rhandall Sturmhahn. "Ah, here you go, my good sir! A pie fit for a Thane or a King!"

Rhandall growled appreciatively, rubbing his hands as the gnome vendor handed over a hot berry pie. "Ahh, thank ye, lad! Much obliged t'ye!" He handed over some copper coins, nodded and turned to head back to where his cousin was waiting for him. Walking to where they'd parked their travel cart, the red-bearded dwarf passed the pie back and forth between his hands, trying to keep from singeing his fingertips as he eyed his purchase with anticipation.

Standing next to the buckboards, Hanna shook her head as she watched Rhandall approach. "Would M'Lord care fer anythin' else t'go wi' his purchase?" she asked with mock-sweetness.

Rhandall merely chuckled. "Only if it'll be a mug o' good, brown beer, roasted boar meat . . . an' perhaps some o' Dad's good cider," he said. He was about to take a bite, when he felt Hanna cuff him smartly in the back of his head. "Ow! What th' devil was that fer!?"

"You know bloody well what fer, Rhan," Hanna said. "We're no where near finished gettin' all o' th' supplies we need, an' yer only thinkin' about stuffin' that beer-barrel of a belly o' yers!"

"Ach, lay off, me girl," Rhandall said gruffly. "Ye know good an' well there's na need t'rush."

"We've got every guid reason tae rush this!" Hanna looked sharply at a pair of armored dwarven guards that were ambling past. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, "Considerin' who's back at our room in th' inn, we should'nae be loiterin' aboot."

Rhandall snorted. "Ah, th' lass is wi' Liam, an' that's good enough protection fer my likin'." He took a bite of his pie, making an appreciative sound as he chewed and swallowed the tart, cooked berries and flaky crust. "Besides . . . since we're all tae be off to th' northern lands, I'll not be settin' off wi'out makin' sure I've had my fill o' good food an' drink, me girl. It may be a while before any o' us will get th' chance again."

Sighing expansively, Hanna poked his chest for emphasis, saying, "Be that as it may, cousin, we still should'a been back at th' inn a long time ago. Liam's probably worried, an' no tellin' what Freaja's thinkin' . . . after all, no blood elf in their right mind would be caught out in Ironforge."

Rhandall started to say something sharp in return . . . but the sudden re-appearance of the two guardsmen that had ambled past before -- now headed in the opposite direction, at a fast pace -- Interrupted him.

"Hurry! Th' call came from near th' Military Quarter!"

"Aye! Raiders near th' inn, near Tinker Town!"

As they vanished around a corner, both Hanna and Rhandall jerked their heads around, before looking at each other with faces filled with sick realization.

"Th' inn--!"

"Near Tinker Town!" Hanna bolted from the wagon, heading towards the corner the guardsmen vanished behind. "C'mon, Rhan! Liam could be in trouble!"

Rhandall stumbled a bit -- clearly undecided on what to do about his still-hot pie -- before he growled and tossed the pie away as he unlimbered his rifle. "Blast it! Why does this always seem tae happen t'me!? Wait, Hanna!" With that, he ran after his cousin.

oOoOo

Though the guards of Ironforge were stout, unwavering and brave to a fault, no thanks to the current state of conflict abroad their numbers were painfully low. Though they did what they could to make up for their lack of forces, they could not be everywhere at once.

A fact that was made evident by the sudden commotion that exploded outside of the inn . . . the one where Freaja was trying to return to, while she kept her face turned away from the smattering of guards that dashed past her.

_Great . . . Sun! What has happened since I snuck away?_ Moving as quickly as she dared, she made her way along the stone alleyway. She was well within earshot of the War Quarter when she heard it: the sounds of angry shouts, pain-feared cries and the ring of clashing metal. _A fight! In this place!? Who would be--?_ Suddenly, a knot of fear formed in her middle. _Oh no!_ Without any further concern for herself, she ran towards the sounds of battle.

Coming to the entry way that lead to the middle of the military section of the city, she slid to a halt at the sight before her: a gaggle of dwarves were surrounding a knot of fighting figures, with a good score of armored bodies littering the ground around them. Peering closer, she could see that the tallest figure in their midst was Liam . . . and the other three fighting both him and the dwarves were all Sin'dorei.

No! More of those blasted Farstriders! Freaja ducked behind a stone brazier, watching as the battle continued to rage. The trio of blood elf rangers were moving with both skill and desperation -- clearly aware that they were against high odds. They clearly were intent on Liam, but they did not allow any of the dwarf defenders to interfere for too long.

What do I do now? Freaja's thoughts railed against the walls of her mind. He isn't armored, and unless more dwarves come--!?

oOoOo

With a shout that turned into a hissing gurgle as the Sin'dorei Captain removed his blade from his neck, another Ironforge defender fell to the stones in a heap.

With a black scowl, Taron Highraven whirled and shot a look at his two brethren; both of which were engaged with Liam -- the paladin only just keeping out of the reach as his own longsword wove a deadly dance with their blades. _Blast to cinders! This should have been a quick and easy kill!_ Taron reflected. They'd prepared what had been -- at least in the planning -- a perfect ambush of the human. He'd been dealing with seeing to some mounts, his back turned to them and seemingly unaware of the danger behind him.

That suddenly changed, when he turned with a sheathed longsword in his hands. Seeing the three Farstriders advancing with weapons out, Liam quickly drew his own weapon and moved to engage them, instead of calling for aid or running to seek out the true object of their search.

Taron didn't have the time to puzzle the matter over. They had the advantage of numbers, and he was unarmored. Even with the element of surprise gone, they still should have made easy meat of this human.

Now, however, Taron was clearly upset as to how the whole chain of events was unfolding. Liam proved to be tougher than they thought; fighting back with a skill and determination that far outweighed his lack of protection or allies. Still, the rangers were committed to their attack. Even when their fight attracted the dwarven defenders, the trio still fought on.

But with every passing moment, Taron began to see the true folly of things. _This fight goes on far too long!_ he told himself. _Unless we retreat, we will either be captured or slain! And we've yet to find that damned __**sin'osa**__ Freaja!_ He looked at the remaining dwarves that were circling them warily Already calls of alarm had echoed through out the War Quarter, and Taron knew that the odds would soon be too high to counter.

Flicking his blade out, he muttered a wordless curse as he called out over his shoulder, "Saric! Karadin! Finish that wretch off! We're going to be up to our elbows in more guards in moments!"

Saric growled, "We are trying, Captain, but . . . ugh! he fights like ten of our best warriors!"

Liam slammed his sword down, driving both of the ranger's warblades down to clang against the stone floor. With a savage punch, he knocked Saric backwards, before he drove a knee into Karadin's belly. The younger ranger doubled over with a grunt, only to snap upright when Liam smote him another blow.

One of the remaining dwarf guards shouted, "Hold on, Paladin! More of our brothers are coming!"

Taron whipped out a series of strikes that drove the dwarf back, before he clubbed the guard aside, sending him sprawling. "They will not arrive in time, maggot!"

A sudden cry of anguish filled the air, and Taron turned in time to see Karadin stumble to his knees; the younger blood elf's sword forgotten, while he clutched at the spreading red stain on his belly. He'd clearly been caught off guard by Liam, who's skill at battering his defenses left him open to a hard thrust from his blade.

Taron snarled as Karadin fell to the ground, dying. "Must I do everything myself?!" He slashed at the remaining dwarves and darted towards Saric. Even now, desperate in his need to kill, Taron could see that the human was not wavering; his sword red, still held firm as he watched the two Farstriders prepare for a new attack.

_He fights like he has something worth defending!_ Taron steeled himself. _Our leader may be well displeased that we did not get the __**sin'osa,**__ but at least we shall kill the bastard that thwarted us in the first place._ "Saric, finish him!"

Liam had turned to face Saric, only to back pedal like mad when Taron added his own sword to the mix. Together, the two rangers slowly drove him back towards a cramped corner between two dwarf homes. A couple guardsmen tried to follow in behind to pin the two rangers, but Saric and Taron exchanged positions -- the later engaging Liam, while the former formed a defensive stance to hold the dwarves back.

Liam locked swords with Taron, his face twisting with a grimace as he tried to push the ranger back. "You, and your . . . men are very . . . persistent, Ranger," he grunted.

Switching to Common, Taron said, "To complete, my, mission . . . I will do, whatever, it, takes . . . to see, it, done!"

A sudden shout behind him made Liam nod grimly. "Then you do it alone," he said.

Taron hazarded a look behind him, a look of black defeat in his eyes as he saw Saric slump to the ground; the blade of a dwarf battle axe buried in his back.

Just then, a trio of guardsmen skidded to a halt nearby; the lead dwarf a black-bearded, grizzled veteran with the insignia of a corporal, who pointed a sword at Taron. "Yield, Elf! Yer outnumbered. Surrender or be cut down!"

Taron appeared to comply, letting his sword drop away from Liam's.

The dwarf corporal nodded to the remaining guardsman. "Surround 'em, lads. We'll be takin' this one tae th' stocks." He looked to Liam. "Are ye alright, human?"

"I . . . appear to be unharmed, for the most part." Liam drew a deep breath, before he started to move away from the Sin'dorei ranger.

Suddenly, Hanna and Rhandall emerged from an open entryway across from the scene of carnage. The cousins took one look at the floor strewn with the bodies of their countrymen, before they started towards their friend. "Liam, laddie!? What's happened?"

Before Liam could reply, another figure suddenly appeared on the side opposite the battleground -- a slim, cloaked figure who started to move towards Liam with hesitant steps. "Knight, are you--?"

"Freaja!?" Liam whispered.

A second after his hushed spoken word, Taron suddenly went rigid; his face twisting with fury as he whirled, slamming his weapon against the two dwarves who had come up to take him. With a snarl, he kicked Liam hard in the belly, before he burst away from the other guardsmen and charged towards Freaja. "_Sin'osa_ witch! You will not escape justice!!!" Weapon raised, Taron clearly had murder in his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

"Stop!" the dwarf Captain moved to intercept Taron, but he was too slow to catch the enraged blood elf.

Liam bellowed, "RHANDALL! _STOP HIM!_"

As Taron closed the distance between himself and the frantically-retreating Freaja, Rhandall moved with the speed born of a skilled marksman; priming and leveling his rifle at Taron, taking a steady breath before he pulled the trigger.

*KRAK!*

The heavy slug smashed through Taron's armor, piercing deep into the blood elf ranger's vitals as he was in mid-stride. The sheer force of the bullet turned him about, making him stagger as he struggled to recover and continue his charge towards Freaja.

Rhandall snarled, cocking his weapon and taking aim again. *KPOW!*

A gout of blood spurted out of the other side of Taron's chest, as the second shot drove him down to one knee. Gasping against the shock and pain, the ranger nevertheless continued to move towards his intended target. His eyes were wide in his pale face as he stared up at the stricken woman. Hitching a breath, he snarled as he said, "You . . . will not, escape . . . I will . . . see you, finished, Sunblood!"

Still fearful, Freaja managed to swallow a knot in her throat as she said, "What Neph'anis could not do . . . you will not be able to finish, either."

Taron spat in her direction, preparing another curse . . . when his eyes looked down at Freaja's hands. A new look of realization filled his face, as he beheld her violently shaking hands, before he searched her face and saw her own pale skin. With a twisted leer, he mumbled in Thalassian, "So . . . you have begun . . . to succumb to the . . . winnowing-effects of . . . withdrawal?!" His pain seemed to fade as cruel laughter began to bubble past his lips, at the sight of Freaja's comprehension. Drawing himself upright, Taron tried to raise his sword. "No . . . matter. You will, not find . . . escape in becoming, a Fa--AGH!"

Freaja recoiled further, seeing the sudden look of shock and pain in Taron's face. "No!"

Taron seemed to be suspended -- unable to move or act -- until his body jerked, swaying on his heels as he blinked and labored for breath. He stared at Freaja with dimming eyes, before he hissed, "Traitor . . . you . . . will--." With a groan, the Farstrider teetered, then slumped forwards onto the ground . . . revealing the standing, gasping form of Liam standing behind him with a bloodied sword in his grasp.

oOoOo

Staring down at the body of the slain elf, Liam tried to gather his battle-spurred wits as he stood there. It had been almost too late -- when he saw that Rhandall's shots had done little save slow the ranger's charge towards Freaja. Moving with desperation, he'd come up behind Taron and dealt the final blow; stabbing the ranger officer in the back. It wasn't a glorious way to finish off an enemy . . . but by then, Liam hadn't been worried about appearances.

Looking up, he saw the fear-touched relief in Freaja's face, as she stood there trembling. With a sigh, he dipped his head and said, "I am sorry, my Lady. I should have . . . been quicker, and . . . these--?" He motioned to the dead bodies of the Farstriders. "Your countryment, I--."

"Knight, do not apologize." Swallowing, Freaja said, "There is . . . nothing to forgive, knight. You did your duty."

Liam nodded. "Yes . . . my duty." He turned, just as the sound of booted dwarven feet signaled the approach of both the guardsmen and the Sturmhahn cousins reached his ears. The later were both looking anxious as they came to a stop next to the pair. "Och, sweet Auntie's baldric . . . Lad, Lassie, are ye--?"

"We are, all right, Hanna." Liam said, facing the dwarves.

Rhandall sighed. "Well, sorry 'bout that, Liam." He gave a wry look at his weapon. "I should'a been more faster just now."

Reaching out, Liam clasped his friend on the shoulder. "My friend, you were good enough, and I thank you for that."

Hanna looked to Freaja. "I'd say ye both can thank my cousin . . . e'en if he is a bit of a dunder-headed oaf at times," she said with a smirk.

Freaja gave her a weak smile. "He can be, at that. but . . . you are right." She nodded to Rhandall. "You have my thanks, dwarf."

Rhandall merely waved a hand at her. "Ach . . . ne'er mind it, Lass."

Before anyone could say anything further, the dwarf corporal cleared his throat. "Forgive me if I'm interuptin' a moment, but . . . as far as duty goes, I do have my own to deal with." He nodded to the guardsmen with him, before pointing to Freaja. "Take her."

"What?" Rhandall turned along with the others. "Why th' Devil are ye botherin' wi' her? Th' lass wasn't attackin' Liam!"

"Perhaps she was not," a gruff, deep voice said. "That still does nae erase th' fact that she still is one o' them."

Coming from behind the group, a new cluster of dwarven guardsmen marched into view. At their head, a dark-bearded, grim-looking fellow was looking at Freaja with purpose and clear distrust. He had the marks of a sub-commander on his shoulder armor, and a pair of war axes strapped to his waist.

Liam moved to meet him and his guardsmen. "She may be a Sin'dorei, sir, but--."

"I am no 'Sir', good knight. I am Sergeant Dimurov Grimear, an' I run th' garrison forces that protect Ironforge."

Rhandall muttered, "Better late than never, I guess."

Hanna scowled at him briefly, before she said, "Sums it up, but I have tae agree wi' my blockhead of a cousin. Th' lass was nae one o' these scum tryin' tae kill our friend here." She nodded to the surviving guards that were nearby. "They can vouch as witness tae that, Sergeant."

A broken chorus of "Aye" came from the battered guards.

"I'll not discount wha' my men say, lass." Sergeant Grimear glared at the others standing around them. "It is still a fact o' reality: yon lass is one o' th' Horde. T'was her countrymen what attacked a member o' the Alliance, within the walls of our own city." He paused before sizing up Liam with a quick look. "It is always guid t'see that yer whole an' hearty, Knight . . . but now ye must stand aside an' allow us t'do our duty. Lads, take that Blood Elf prisoner."

Liam nodded once, but he did not move aside for the guards to take Freaja. His firm stance made several of those who had witnessed his fight with the Farstriders pause.

Sergeant Grimear grunted. "Stand aside, good knight. Do as yer bid."

"No." Liam shook his head slowly. "Lady Freaja may be a Sin'dorei, yes . . . but she travels with me, and as a Knight of the Silver Hand I have given her my protection and my oath, that she shall become no one's prisoner or war prize." He shifted his grip on his sword. "I am on a journey to see her returned to her family and her people, and not even the articles of war that exist between the Alliance and the Horde can deter me from my duty, Sergeant."

At that, Sergeant Grimear's face turned dark with emotion. "Ye may have proved yerself, by dealin' wi' those bloody elf-rangers, but knight or no, ye're still bound t'honor the laws o' the Dwarves as well as that of yer own people." He raised a hand and thrust one finger at Freaja. "That elf is an enemy, an' she will either come wi' us willingly, or we'll take her by force!"

Unconsciously, Freaja moved closer behind Liam as she looked quickly from dwarf to dwarf.

"Sergeant . . . I commend you on your dedication to your duty," Liam said. His expression brooked no compromise, as he moved to completely shield Freaja from him. "Yet, I must insist you and your men stand down. The lady is with me and my companions, and I will see my duty done . . . or else I will certainly die trying to do so."

That statement alone made Freaja stare at him. He is willing . . . to die for me!?

Sergeant Grimear cast a look at the two Sturmhahn cousins. "This matter need no concern any other innocent dwarves. Ye both are well advised t'keep well clear o' this--."

"An, might I be so bold t'say, Sergeant," Hanna said firmly, "that yer advice is duly noted, as well as cheerfully ignored." She stepped over to stand at Liam's side. "I may be a dwarf, but I know what's right by rights. I'll stand wi' me friend an' his charge an' no other mother's son o' th' lot of ye best not try t'turn me mind on any other tack." She glared at her cousin and the rest of her countrymen.

Sergeant Grimear snapped a look at Rhandall. "Do ye follow after th' same as yer cousin? It'll go bad for ye both . . . harborin' an enemy of th' Alliance."

Rhandall looked at both Hanna and Liam, then Freaja for several moments before he sighed. "Well . . . I may be a law abidin' citizen, but . . . I agree wi' my cousin an' friend." He stomped over to stand behind Liam, facing the other dwarves as he moved between them and Freaja. "Th' lass has done nae wrong, an' this paladin has given his word t'see her returned to her homeland." He primed and cocked his rifle. "That's good enough fer me. So, if ye want th' lass, yer gonna have a fight on yer hands."

Liam nodded at the two cousins, before he faced Sergeant Grimear once more. "Sergeant, there is nothing to be gained by escalating this situation further. You would be wise to let this matter drop."

The dark-haired dwarf scowled, then he sighed. "I should bring the lot o' ye before King Magni, an' have this sorted out once an' fer all . . . but, th' King has other matters that are more pressin', as do I." He motioned to one of his guardsmen, who nodded and sprinted off quickly. "I won't press, Knight, but neither will I allow ye an' this blood elf t'remain inside our city. You are ordered t'take her, yer companions an' leave. So long as she remains under yer care, none o' ye are allowed to return t' Ironforge." He fixed Liam with a hard stare. "Do I make me'self clear, Paladin?"

Liam and the cousins all stared at each other, then to Freaja, who was listening with wide-eyed shock on her pale face. A firm headshake from him silenced Rhandall -- who looked ready to protest -- before the human addressed the sub-commander again; "You do, indeed, Sergeant. We shall abide, but I ask that we be allowed to gather our belongings, mounts and provisions so that we may depart."

Sergeant Grimear nodded curtly. "Aye, I will allow that much." He nodded to another of the guards. "Watch these . . . people, an' be certain they follow my order. Report back t'me once they have departed the city."

oOoOo

A short while later, With Freaja and Liam mounted -- the former on a black ram, the later on Sabine -- and Rhandall and Hanna following with their wagon, the four were quickly out into the cold, wintery weather that gripped all of Dun Morogh and on the road down from the height of the High-Thane's city.

Looking back over his shoulder, Rhandall sighed, making two clouds of breath-steam flow over his beard as he plopped back down in his seat. "Blast it all . . . scorched coal, cinder and embers! I never thought I'd see th' day I'd be banished from my own people's capital."

"Well, not forever," Hanna said quietly, as she held the reins to their rams as they pulled the wagon on the rough dirt road. She too was stricken by the Sergeant's decree, but her pragmatic mind soothed her own distress. "After all, once we get yon lassie back t'her people, we'll be allowed back in."

Snorting, Rhandall grumbled, "Aye . . . but it still th' sting that smarts, me girl." He shot a look at Freaja's back. "Damn it all."

Ahead, Liam glanced over at Freaja -- who was staring straight ahead, still pale and clasping the reins of the ram she road. Concerned, he leaned in closer, saying, "Do not let Rhandall's complaints bother you, my Lady. His temper will settle, in time."

Freaja could only nod in reply.

Sighing, Liam straightened and said, "We will be turning northwards, before we reach the town of Kharados. The road and lands beyond will lead us to Loch Modan, across which lies the harbor town of Menenthil. It is from there that we can purchase passage on a ship, that will take us further north and closer to the Sin'dorei lands." He glanced at Freaja once more. "From there, it will not take long to return you to your home, my Lady."

Again, Freaja just nodded.

Liam simply sighed once more. _She might be upset about the deaths of those Farstriders. After all, they may have tried to attack her, but . . . they were still her countrymen._ He returned his attention to the road ahead. _It might be best to leave her be, for now._

As Liam and the company continued onwards, the one thing neither he or the dwarves could have suspected was the singular thought running like a caged squirrel in Freaja's mind . . . borne from her constant awareness of the trembling that was now starting to seize her arms as well as her hands.

_Great Sun . . . to cross these dwarf-lands now, without having found a means to sate the craving for arcane-magic--?_ Freaja felt her middle clench like a fist. _Even though the paladin saved me from becoming a prisoner again . . . I am doomed!  
._

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	10. Chapter 10

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"Book One : The Blessed Light"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

DISCLAIMER : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same.

This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.

-==-

Ten

* * *

"Hanna, Fall BACK!"

From her hunched-over position on top of the steadfast black ram mount, Freaja cringed as she watched the sturdy form of Hanna Sturmhahn spring backwards; a flurry and spray of snow and ice marking the savage slash of the massive, horned snow beast that stood before the trio of companions in front of the Blood Elf.

Covered in shaggy white fun, the yeti bellowed a challenge; swinging its massive arms out before itself; two outstretched hands threatening with razor-claws to tear into the two dwarves and their human friend.

"I told ye this was a bad idea, Liam!" Rhandall griped as he reloaded his hunting rifle.

"Less talk, cousin!" Hanna snapped back, her own weapon lying jammed and useless in the snow at her feet. Drawing a sword and axe, she glared at the beast that was stalking towards her.

Shivering in her cloak, Freaja could do little else but cling to the saddle and hold the wooly beast beneath her in check, while Liam, Rhandall and Hanna danced just out of the tall, hulking wendigo's reach. _That dwarven farmer had said we'd best beware this Vagash, and he was right! _Recalling just a couple of days prior, as they prepared to head deep into the foothills of the wilds, the doughty dwarf known as Veron Amberstill cautioned them repeatedly. Stating the current threat to his flocks, he tried to make Liam see good reason and take a safer road; through Loch Modan and onwards to Khaz Modan.

_Our benevolent paladin thought we would be safe . . . as well as avoid all the dwarven rangers that watch the roads through Khaz Modan!_ Freaja thought crossly. Looking up as a new roar split the air, she clamped her weak legs around the barrel of the ram. _By the Bright Sun! I'll gladly trade a regiment of dwarves, compared to this . . . foul creature!_

"Watch out! He's charging!"

"OOF! Scorch th' beast! Liam?"

"I'm all right," Liam shouted. "Pull him back away from the rocks, Rhandall!"

As the trio circled and made repeated attempts to break through the yeti's defense, Freaja coughed harshly and shivered from head to toe. _Wonderful!_ she thought. _A fine example of your people, girl! If not for . . . this consumption, I could protect myself, even help them with that blasted beast!_

On the ground in front of her, Liam and the dwarves were fighting off a stalemate; Vagash was clearly not a dumb beast, as it refused to let them drive it away from the rocks to expose its back. Repeated attacks up front had been useless, as the beast proved to be too stout and hearty to fold after each attack. Liam -- being armored in heavy plate and mail -- bore the brunt of the beasts counters and strikes; the once polished metal now pitted and scarred, while his own longsword fairly dripped bloody; evidence of his effort to slow the beast down.

"We need to end this," Liam said. Shooting a look at Rhandall, he ordered, "Rhandall! Hit it from the side! "I'll come from behind it!"

Snapping the breach on his weapon shut, the red-bearded dwarf snarled. "Hanna! Get back an' protect th' elf!"

"Just don' do anythin' stupid, Rhan!" Hanna scuttled backwards, getting back within a few steps of the Sin'dorei woman.

"I'll not be dyin' under th' claws of the likes o' THAT!" With that, Rhandall shouldered his rifle and let fly with several rapid shots; pelting the wendigo with solid slugs of adamantine metal.

The beast bellowed in pain, whirling towards the hunter as it ignored the previous target of Hanna. So engaged, it was ill prepared for the sudden surge of Liam's attack; the paladin hacking away at its furry hide from the rear, driving it forwards onto its knees.

From her perch, Freaja gasped; unable to keep from looking away as her companions labored to bring the beast down. At one point, the wendigo spun about, slapping Liam back with a heavy-handed bash. "Liam!?" she called out, though her voice was too weak to be heard over the roaring of the creature.

Liam hit the snowy ground hard, but he rolled with the momentum of his fall and regained his feet; rising with his weapon ready, gasping for the air the blow had driven from his body. The beast barreled in, teeth gnashing and claws outstretched to impale the knight, but Liam ducked under its upraised arms, braced his feet once he was in close to the furry body and thrust his longsword up with a hard, fast motion. The sudden move was too quick to counter; the sharp steel blade sliding in under the wendigo's ribs, piercing flesh and organs until it sliced into the savage creatures heart.

The angry roar quickly pitched up into a growl of surprise, before sinking back down to a low, rolling moan. With a slowness that was almost graceful, the wendigo tottered and fell backwards, it's last breath coming out with a dying whimper.

Standing with panting breaths, both Hanna and Rhandall looked on as Liam emerged from behind the fallen body of the beast. "Laddie!? Are ye hurt?" Hanna asked.

Shaking his head, Liam flicked his weapon to the side to slough off the blood that slicked the long blade. "Thankfully, no . . . though I am certain to feel sore by next morning." The russet-haired paladin looked to the dwarf cousins in turn. "You?"

"Nay more than th' bruises ye got yerself, Liam." Hanna said.

Rhandall reached up and rubbed the side of his head. "I got a wee knock in the noggin, Lad, but I'll survive."

"Of course ye will, since yer head's as thick as a Lighforged ingot!" Hanna said with a tease.

"Oh, go soak yer head, cousin."

Liam let them have their quips, sighing as he stepped towards their fourth companion. His eyes sought out Freaja's, concerned as the elf woman had not moved a step since the attack by the hoary beast began. "Lady? Were you harmed--?" His words cut off, when with a groan that sounded worse than the wendigo's death-rattle, Freaja suddenly slumped forwards and slid off the ram, onto the snowy ground beside it. "Lady Freaja!?" Bolting through the snow, Liam was at her side in an instant. "Hanna! Your first-aid kit, quickly!"

Digging through her backpack, Hanna came up with some bandages and various healing ointments and potions. Dropping next to Liam on the ground, she reached out and helped to turn Freaja over onto her back. "Hsss! Scorch an' splinters, Laddie!" Hanna peered at the stricken elf's face. "She's nigh-hot tae touch."

Liam looked on the flushed, sweating face of the unconscious woman. She was shivering with violent spasms, but her skin did not have the pale cast of a fever victim. "What is wrong with her?" he wondered aloud.

"Whatever it is, we're nae equipped tae deal wi' this, Liam." Hanna motioned to her medical supplies. "A wound bleedin' or a poisonin', sure . . . but this looks like a fever, brought on by an illness. We need a healer's touch fer this."

Rhandall came over, standing with his hands wrapped around his still-smoking rifle. "Th' nearest healer is way back in Ironforge, cousin," he said, snorting through his fat nose. "Else, we'll need t'make tracks fer Thelsamar, that's th' only other closest town."

Liam glanced upwards, his eyes narrowing at the advancing pallor of slate-gray clouds overhead. "We may not have the time to make it to either, if the skies are any indication, my friend."

Both dwarves followed his gaze. Rhandall sucked his breath in between his teeth before saying, "Aye, there's a storm brewin' up, all right. Might be less than half an' hour away, at most."

"What do we do then, Liam?" Hanna asked. "If I had time, I'd try some medicines on th' lassie . . . see if that might break her fever."

Liam nodded. Casting a glance around, he pointed off towards a place lower along the spine of the rocky hills. "We might find a cave down there, I think. It will be enough shelter, and give us time to allow you to work on your medicines, Hanna."

"Well, let's get movin' then!" Hanna reached down and curled her arms under the blood elf. "Give me a hand, here! We need tae get . . . umph! Get th' lass back on that mount!"

oOoOo

Within an hour, the brunt of the snowstorm was beating hard upon the mountains.

Clouds as dark as slate, blowing harsh winds driving a succession of flurries into the heart of the Dwarf-lands of Dun Morogh. Drifts were soon piled as high as a kodo's shoulder, burying even tall trees and high rocks under a smothering blanket of snow and ice.

Fortunately, the party had managed to find a small, secluded cave a ways down the chain of the mountains. It was here they hastily set up camp, before the storm slammed home. A quick-made shelter shielded the mounts, while a half-blind covered the entrance of the low rock-cave to keep the worst of the wind and snow outside.

Standing near this entrance, Liam eyed the nearly-blackened skies overhead. His face flecked with patches of ice and clinging snow, the paladin scrubbed the worst of it off as he turned to face the direction of the far-off seat of the High-Thane. _Perhaps I should have pushed harder to work a compromise with the guardians of Ironforge? It would have permitted Freaja access to the care she may need--._ Shaking his head, he snorted. _No . . . she would now be a prisoner of the Dwarves, and you would not be able to keep your promise to her!_

Breaking off his thoughts, Liam looked down as Rhandall struggled up the short incline leading up to the cave. "Rhandall?"

"Ach, nae worry 'bout me, Lad." The dwarf's red beard was literally caked with snow, showing starkly against the front of his hunting leathers. "I've just banked a fire next tae th' mount's shelter. Should keep all o' th' beasties from gettin' close tae find a nighttime snack."

Liam nodded. "Good, Though I'm more worried about the storm, than any encroachers in the night."

Rhandall huffed, making steam trail behind him in cotton-puffs as he trudged to a stop next to the tall human. "'Tisn't good, Lad," he said as he looked upwards. "This storm . . . it has teeth and legs! I get th' feelin' it will nae be blowin' over too soon."

"Then we may well be stranded for the night." Liam glanced back at the cave. "At least we have shelter enough for all of us."

"Aye, but 'tis poor shelter, at best. Since one o' us is sick." The dwarf stared hard at his companion. "Liam, ye know damn well we should'nae have tae let ourselves get expunged from Ironforge in th' first place. If anythin', we shoulda at least begged King Magni-."

"You know as well as I that King Magni would never have allowed us to remain in Ironforge, for harboring a blood elf," Liam replied. "It was just luck that we were able to leave before Sergeant Grimear decided to put a word in the ears of the High-Seat."

"Aye, true." Snorting again, Rhandall muttered, "Still, it would'nae hurt t'have tried t'reason wi' them."

"I would not have compromised Freaja's safety, even if it had meant one night of shelter from a storm like this, my friend." Tugging his own cloak around himself, Liam nodded as he glanced up at the slate-gray skies overhead. "In any case, if it lessens come daylight, we should be able to continue onwards to Loch Modan, and then on to Menenthil." He nodded towards the cave. "Come, my friend. We need to get out of this weather."

"Ah, go ahead, Lad . . . best I go an' double-check on th' mounts first," the dwarf said. "I'll be along shortly." The two parted and made their way through the driving snow -- with the paladin making his way back up to the mouth of the cave.

He was met by Hanna, who was just coming to the stone lip of the cave to throw out some stale water into the drifts. "Liam, ye best check on yuir elf-lady," she said. Her face was twisted up into a grimace of worry. "I dinnae think she's respondin' well t' me home remedies."

"Is she that bad?" Liam stared deep into the depths of the cave. "I thought our friend back in Goldshire--?"

"Aye, but this is summat worse than what she got before. 'Tis not right wi' the lass," Hanna said. "She's got some terrible fever an' she's shakin' somethin' fierce."

Liam looked sharply towards the back of the cave. "Blast it . . . I had hoped--."

"For what it's worth, I hoped t'cure her long before this . . . but if her fever doesn't break soon, we may well be buryin' her come daybreak." Shaking her head, she motioned him onwards. "Go, I need t'get some more supplies from me packs. There may be summat more I can try. If that doesn't work, we may need yer paladin' healin' prayers."

Nodding, Liam ducked under the low stone entrance and made his way down into the narrow passage. Emerging into a rounded chamber just beyond, he paused only long enough to remove his thick cloak, before he moved towards the other side of the small, banked fire pit in the center.

Here, curled under several thick furs and blankets against the wall, was Freaja. The blood elf was shivering mightily -- like she was laying naked in the snow -- yet she was wet with sweat and flushed to a near-crimson shade.

Kneeling next to her, Liam let out a soft sigh before he stripped off his mail gloves. "Lady?" he asked, reaching out to touch her face gently, only to pull back the instant his fingertips came in contact with her. _She's almost too hot to touch!_ he thought. "Lady, are you--?"

Jerking slightly, the red-haired woman moaned, blinking as she tried to peer up at the human kneeling beside her. Swallowing thickly, Freaja tried to speak. "I . . . hurt," she said, her words sounding rough against her throat.

"You are very ill, Lady. From a malady neither I or my friends can divine. If I knew what was the cause of this, it would better serve me to help you," Liam said.

Freaja sucked in a deep breath, trying to get her wits as she stared up at Liam. "Mana . . . ."

That made Liam frown all the more deeply. "Mana?"

"Arcane magic. My people . . . we grow . . . dependant, on it," Freaja said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Without it . . . we . . . withdraw and . . . become, one of . . . the winnowed. Fallen."

Liam nodded, his face filling with comprehension. "I see. That, makes things difficult, at best. To find you a ready source--."

"Can't!" Freaja gasped. "None . . . of you . . . are mages." Her tongue sweeping across her lips in an attempt to moisten them. Can't . . . give me . . . what--."

"What you need, yes. This is true," Liam finished for her. Cupping his face with one hand, he peered at her for several moments. "There must be something I can do, to help you recover from this withdrawal."

Her eyes drifted half-closed, the green glow looking muted as her head listed to the side. "Nothing can be . . . done. I will . . . become one . . . of the Wretched."

Dropping his hand, Liam looked away briefly. _Damn! Something must be done,_ he thought. _I cannot let her succumb to this . . . affliction, when she must live! She has a destiny to fulfill._ He looked down at her -- listening to her moan in pain for several moments -- before he shifted so that his body faced her squarely. Studying her face, he ran several thoughts through his mind . . . eventually, he fixed on one that rose above all the rest. Reaching out, he grasped the edge of the furs and drew them down, revealing the upper body and arms of the slim woman beneath. Liam brought his hands together in front of him and closed his eyes as he turned his focus towards the source of the ever-present Light that drove all of his strength and power for his healing and resurrection spells. As the power began to flow into himself, Liam murmured formless words of supplication.

Watching with bleary eyes, Freaja clearly couldn't fathom what he was doing at first. Too weak to stop him, Freaja nonetheless gathered her voice and said, "What are . . . you, doing, human?"

Not replying, Liam continued to chant. The first vestiges of holy power began to manifest an aura around Liam; a shinning light that filled the tiny cave with its glow. When it was nearly blinding in its intensity, Liam slowly dropped his hands towards Freaja; placing one over her forehead and the other over her chest.

"No . . . wait," Freaja said weakly, trying to lift her hands to push his away. "What--!?"

"My Lady, peace." Liam interrupted his wordless chant to speak calmly to her. "Trust in me, and in the Light." Touching with soothing fingertips, he pressed his hands against her fevered skin and softly began chanting once more; this time speaking the words of a holy prayer:

_By the Blessings of the Light..._

_By the consecration of my Soul..._

_May the Power I call forth, be given unto this One._

_To sustain and revive her, and make her whole._

As the words flowed past his lips, he could feel the power within himself begin to pour out through his hands, into the body of the stricken elf-woman. As the pulse of energy pouring out of himself continued, Liam felt his limbs tremble. Repeating the prayer, his voice started to shake, but he continued to chant while he let the healing essence flow into her.

At first, it did not appear that anything was changing with Freaja. In fact, her face began to pinch up tight as a new wave of withdrawal pains began to surge through her. Then, she felt the pain start to dull . . . then it slowly ebbed out of her limbs and body, as a new warmth began filling her up -- the kind that wasn't borne of a fever.

As the Liam continued to pray, pouring more of the power of the Light into Freaja, her body slowly stopped trembling. The flushed color faded from her skin and the sweat evaporated. Her moans soon ceased as she fell unconscious, yet Liam continued to chant and channel the power into her.

It was this scene that both Hanna and Rhandall came onto as they returned from outside the cave.

"What th'--?" Rhandall gawked at the sight of Liam's glowing body hovering over Freaja. "What in all of Creation is goin' on here!?" He started to move forwards, but Hanna grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

"Leave 'im be, Rhan," Hanna said. "Cannae ye see? He's usin' a healin' on th' poor lass."

For several moments longer, the two cousins watched in silence. Then, abruptly, Liam's prayer stopped and the aura of the Light quickly faded away to leave only the golden glow of the banked fire to fill the cave. With a low groan, Liam sagged back onto his heels, his body nearly toppling back onto the hot coals behind him.

"Liam!" Both dwarves were quick to move to his side. Supporting him by the arms, they moved him back away from the fire and Freaja, to settle down near some of their travel packs. "Are ye all right, laddie?"

Shaking his head, Liam groaned. "I . . . believe so. Just feel . . . tired, I never--." He paused, trying to gather himself with a fortifying breath. "I never attempted that sort of use of the Light, before."

"Before?" Hanna cocked her head, looking back over at Freaja. "We thought ye were usin' a healin' prayer on th' lass." Moving back to the blood elf, Hanna took a moment to check her life-beat and touch her skin. "Hmm, her fever's down . . . 'praps even gone."

"Well, that's all an' good," Rhandall said gruffly. "But what in all o' King Magni's Beard did ye do tae her, Liam?"

Sighing, Liam closed his eyes. "My friend, I believe what I have done, is save her life . . . again."

oOoOo

Outside the cave, the storm continued to howl and vent its fury against the mountains, even as nighttime fell over the snow-laden lands of Dun Morogh. Having not lost a single iota of strength as the hours passed, it had nearly swamped the small encampment by the cave.

Inside, shielded by the stone and kept warm by the small fire, the small party was safe from the ravaging winds and stinging ice. It was into this warmth, that Freaja slowly woke from the slumber she'd slipped into.

_I . . . am not dead?_ She shook her head, feeling the softness of the rolled fur under her head. _Foolish woman! How could you even be thinking, if you were dead!?_ She took quick stock, and was surprised to find she was no longer hot with fever, nor stricken with pain. She raised a hand to her face, blinking as she studied it; seeing none of the trembles that came from being afflicted with withdrawal. Startled, she brought her other hand out from under the furs. _Great . . . Sun! Why, what . . . what has happened to me?_ She suddenly drew in a soft, sharp breath, as her memories flooded back into her mind. "The paladin!"

Lifting her head from the comfort of the furs and blankets wrapped around her, she peered around the small chamber; taking in the low light of the fire and the closeness of bodies nearby. Spread across the entrance to the exit, the thick body of Rhandall lay, his beard puffing out with each rumbling snore emitted from his mouth. Not far away, Liam sat propped against the cave wall, his head tilting to the side while he slumbered as well.

Blinking, Freaja cast around for the other dwarf, Hanna, and found her sitting at her feet -- her own body wedged against the small pile of packs that were set against the near-wall. At first, she appeared to be asleep, but when Freaja shifted to rise, Hanna's head craned around and she yawned mightily. "Ach . . . are ye well, lass?"

Startled slightly, Freaja rocked back on her rump before she replied, "I am . . . all right, I believe."

"Ah, guid," Hanna said. "We dinnae believe ye were gonna pull through there fer th' nonce. At least, not until Liam told us what he'd done."

"Liam?" Freaja turned to look at the human, not knowing what to expect. When she saw he was merely sleeping without duress, she asked, "Why, was he-?"

"He was attemptin' summat, tae try an' make ye better, what wi' ye sufferin' th' shakes as badly as ye were." Hanna shifted and sat up, facing Freaja squarely. "Th' long an' th' short of it, is that he told us he channeled some o' the holy Light intae ye."

"The . . . holy light?" Freaja's eyes grew wide as saucers. "This, same Light, that comes from the Naaru?"

Cocking her head, Hanna said, "Dunno what this . . .Naaru is, lass. Paladins like Liam get their abilities from th' Light." She frowned when she saw the uncomprehending look on Freaja's face. "The Blessed Light? That which all guid people pray tae? Surely yer own folk know aboot it?"

"Well, yes . . . we draw-." Freaja stopped herself, closing her eyes for a moment, then she then looked at Hanna, sensing the unease of the female. "I have . . . never felt such power, as like that, which Liam gave me." Looking down at her hands, her face filled with wonder at the sight of them -- looking normal and no longer afflicted with the tremors of withdrawal. Closing her fingers to form twin fists, she glanced back up at Hanna. "What . . . does this all mean, for myself?"

"I cannae say, lass," Hanna replied. "Yet, if this can save ye from what ye've told us about this affliction . . . can it be anythin' but guid, in the end?"

Freaja didn't say anything in return. She kept looking from her hands, to Liam's sleeping form, and for the longest time until she and Hanna both returned to get more needed sleep, that is all she did . . . .

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	11. Chapter 11

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"Book One : The Blessed Light"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Eleven

At the far southern end of the Wetlands -- the very end of the dwarven lands of Khaz Modan -- it would seem to be a lonely place to put any sort of holdings, much less a functioning sea harbor.

But for the Alliance, it was clearly a key place to install not only a serviceable harbor, but also a stout fortification that allowed even the most rugged of travelers that crossed the beast and crocolisk-infested swampland leading down from the upper tiers of Loch Modan.

Menenthil Harbor and her garrison also served as a beachhead defense against the remnants of an orc contingent, gnoll and murloc tribes that peppered the wetland plains for miles around. Travelers that braved the roads from the Arathi Highlands and from the lands of the Loch often ran a gambit of hostile creatures; from spiders to raptors and even some ugly ogres that made a dismal living among the hills bordering them.

It was here at Menenthil, that Liam and his companions had come, to seek passages northwards to the lower lands of the once-wide and proud kingdom of Lordaeron . . . the next barrier to their ultimate goal of the last pocket of the elven kingdom of Quel'thalas.

oOoOo

Captain Handel Single and his First Mate Crispy were sitting at their usual table -- nursing each a pint of dwarf-draughts -- and clearly expecting to have an uneventful close to their evening routine. The swarthy, dark-skinned captain had the look of a true scoundrel; grizzled and unkempt, yet the cut of his eye and the easy-yet-alert way he held himself spoke volumes of experience. There wasn't much in this world that Captain Handel hadn't seen, having traveled far and wide across all the known seas.

Yet, it was a bit of a surprise, when an armored knight and three cloaked strangers came to stand in front of his table. "Captain Handel Single, I presume?"

Looking up at them, Captain Handel muttered, "I might be. Who're you to ask?"

"A petitioning customer," the knight said, casting his hood back before making a querying gesture to the empty seat in front of them.

"Go ahead . . . no one's using it." Tipping his mug back for a swallow, Captain Handel grimaced then asked, "So, who are you strangers?"

"I am Liam mac Roi," Liam said, easing into the seat. "These are my companions; Rhandall, Hanna and . . . Freya."

Captain Handel looked at them in turn, taking in the stern looks of the two dwarves and the distant, aloofness of what appeared to be a female elf behind them. "Ah . . . say no more." Captain Handel motioned to the silent, towering bald man seated to his left. "My mate Crispy, here . . . he keeps a good ear to the harbor walls. Tells me you're seeking passage out of Menenthil, to the seaside village at South Shore."

"Yes, indeed. If you have a fast ship--?"

"Fast ship!?" Captain Handel gave Liam a look of mild disbelief. "Surely, you've heard of my ship, the _**Eon Osprey**_?"

Shaking his head, Liam replied, "Should I have, Captain?"

Rhandall muttered, "Ye might wanna clue us in. Not all o' us are dedicated followers o' sailin' ships, lad."

With a touch of pride and sarcasm, Captain Handel said, "It's a ship that made the Menenthil Run to Stormwind in under half a fortnight, dwarf! And that was against the wind." He gave Liam another squared look. "She's fast enough for you, I wager. What are you taking with you?"

"Only passengers and our mounts and wagon. Myself, Freya, the dwarves . . . and, no questions asked," Liam said pointedly.

Captain Handel caught the meaning in Liam's tone. "Well, then . . . I believe that will be the trick of it. Fine, but the lack of our curiosity is going to cost you, Knight. Ten-thousand gold. All in advance."

At that, Hanna gasped. "Ten-thousand--? We could almost buy our own ship fer that!"

"Are you gonna sail it, sugar-britches?" Handel said with mock sweetness, grinning at her indignant look.

Rhandall slapped the table top and leaned in close to the swarthy human. "If need be . . . or we canna just hire a crew ourselves," he hissed.

At that, Captain Handel and Crispy both laughed. "Well, good luck with that! There's hardly a man with sea legs left in Menenthil -- much less all of Azeroth -- that isn't already crewed elsewhere or been snapped up by the Alliance Navy." Handel added with a scowl, "Been like that since they were attacked by the Scourge, not long ago."

At that, Liam and the others stiffened. "The Scourge? They have attacked Stormwind?"

"Just that new fancy harbor King Wrynn had made," Captain Handel growled. "He's set to build up something big . . . and anyone with the experience who's not attached to any free ship or crew, they get wrapped up and pressed into service for the Grand Alliance." He gave the group an arched look. "So . . . still think you can find a ship and sail it, Grumpy?" he said to Rhandall.

The dwarf snorted. "Grumpy, indeed! Why I--!"

"Rhandall," Liam said, placing a hand on his shoulder to halt his tirade. When the dwarf was silent, the paladin looked at Captain Handel and said, "We can pay you two-thousand now, plus fifteen more, when we have arrived at South Shore."

Handal arched one eyebrow. "Seventeen, eh?" He glanced at Crispy, who just shrugged. "Okay, you got yourselves a ship. We'll make our way as soon as you're ready."

Liam nodded and rose to his feet. "We shall join you aboard ship within an hour's time."

oOoOo

After that august meeting at the inn, the company's passage out of Menethil was relatively swift and uneventful.

True to the Captain's word, the Eon Osprey was indeed a fast ship; cutting across the waves like the bird of prey it was named for, easily leaving the shores of the Wetlands far behind as it pointed its bow northwards.

Well into the voyage, Hanna made good her promise to see to the mounts, leaving Liam free to keep an eye on Freaja -- who remained under her cloak-disguise, to keep the human crew from getting too suspicious. Even so, the cover story of Freaja being one of the Quel'dorei on a pilgrimage to Aerie Peak seemed to suffice. Not many among the ship's crew gave her much notice, even with the constant presence of the paladin nearby.

At one point, Liam and Freaja were on the foredeck, watching the flowing seas pass by. Rhandall had joined them, but only after having made another trip to the rail . . . whereupon he promptly emptied his belly over the side.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, the Sin'dorei woman muttered under her breath, "Must he do that in the open?"

From where Liam was leaning against the side, he shook his head and smiled. "Would you rather he did it below deck, in the ships privy, my Lady? The one we all must share, hm?"

At that, Freaja blanched. "No, thank you."

Staggering up the small stairway from the main deck, the red bearded dwarf grumbled and made a liverish-moan, before he caught the arched look on Freaja's face. "What? I dinnae do it on yer boots this time, lassie," he growled, before promptly letting a belch slip from his lips.

Sighing gustily, Freaja said, "If you'd kindly try to do that elsewhere. Perhaps on the other side of the ship?" Shaking her head crossly, she looked to Liam. "You should have warned me your . . . companion was prone to sea sickness, knight!"

"I had hoped he would not be so affected on this journey, my Lady." Liam crossed his arms over his armored chest. "As it stands, we won't be at sea for much longer." Looking up at the sails, he said, "The winds are swift with us. We should be at South Shore within another day, at the most."

"Well . . . *urp!* tha's all good an' all," Rhandall said. "Bad enough I've got tae suffer like this. This is no way fer a dwarf tae travel! Give me a good Gryffon or a sturdy land mount, an' I'll ne'er complain a whit."

Rolling her eyes a bit, Freaja asked Liam, "What are we to do, once we arrive at our destination, knight? From what I recall, there is little in the way of Alliance holdings in the Arathi highlands, nor general means of travel throughout that region . . . save for what the Horde controls."

Liam nodded. "However, there is a road that leads out and to the north, my Lady. It is a bit of a round-about way, through the plains beneath the Arathi Mountain range, but . . . I do believe it will take us around the Plaguelands, and close to the edges of your people's kingdom."

"If ye were to ask me -- an' ye didn't, lad! -- we could just circumvent all o' that, an' just make fer Aerie Peak," Rhandall said. "There's a flight master there! We could purchase passage on some Gryffons, an' then fly tae that staging point . . . ah, th' one near th' Amani holdings, right?"

At that, Freaja gave a start. "No! You do not want to do that, dwarf," she said. "The Troll lands are not safe for anyone foolish enough to venture that close to it!"

"Perhaps, but that would be bringin' ye that much closer tae yer homeland!"

"Rhandall, Lady Freaja is right . . . I've heard reports of the trolls that live in the Amani forests," Liam said, looking grim. "We'd be better to land there with a full company of knights, warriors and others. We're only four, and certainly no match for any full war band we might encounter."

Freaja shot Rhandall a stern look. "Trust me, what your friend and I say is the truth." She glanced at Liam. "Besides, it may take a while longer but . . . I believe that his plan is the best way."

Grunting, Rhandall just looked upset. "Well, that is just peachy! Takin' th' long way 'round will only put us weeks out from th' Eversong Woods, rather than days! An' I fer one don't like stayin' in these lands, longer than we should be!" He started to pace in front of the paladin and blood elf, making angry gestures with both fists. "We'd be hard pressed, what wi' ogres, wildkin an' worse goin' 'round those mountains, an' further more--ACH!" Suddenly, he jerked back, hopping on one foot as he kicked his foot out to dislodge something from his leg.

"Rhandall, what--?" Liam stopped when he saw something brown and oblong fall to the wood deck with a soft clatter. It suddenly flipped over, and began to scuttle around in a weaving pattern in front of them.

"Ugh! I knew it!!" Rhandall snapped, glaring at the crawling critter. "Roaches! This blasted boat isn't just makin' me sick wi' all th' rockin' . . . it's bloody infested!" With that, the dwarf lifted one foot and took aim at the pest. "Oh, I'll fix ye--!"

"No, don't you dare crush it!" Freaja's outburst startled both Liam and Rhandall, even more when the Sin'dorei woman quickly pushed Rhandall back, before kneeling down on the deck. One hand shot out towards the cockroach; five, slim digits forming a living cage to trap the critter before it could get away. "There, got you!" Cupping her hand, Freaja slowly rose to her feet, giving the dwarf a sharp look as she said, "Ignorant fool! How dare you try to harm an innocent creature?!"

Rhandall sputtered, "Innocent? Creature?! Lass, are ye goin' daft between those pointy ears o' yers?"

"I'm not the one that just tried to kill a creature, who has done no harm to you or anyone else," Freaja said sharply. She then turned her gaze back to the cockroach, and her face filling with a smile as she slowly opened her hand, turning it over to allow the insect to crawl across her palm. "There, there . . . you are safe, little friend. Safer now that I've kept that brute of a dwarf from crushing you." Her eyes lit up as the cockroach slowly began to crawl around her hand and fingers; keeping its place as it decided not to flutter off and seek safety elsewhere.

Watching with some amusement, Liam cocked his head as he watched Freaja soothe the insect. "You are . . . acquainted with such, um, creatures, my Lady?"

Freaja didn't look up, but she nodded as she held up her hand to eye-level. "When I was younger, my family had to have dealings with the Forsaken," she said. "During one such trip to their holdings, I was permitted to witness one of them tame such insects, to turn them into pets." With a soft chuckle, she reached up with one finger and stroked the tip against the cockroach's antennae gently. "I was even allowed to take one back with me to Silvermoon."

Rhandall blanched a bit. "Ye . . . actually kept th' likes o' that, fer a pet!?"

With a gentle laugh, Liam said, "To each their own, my friend." He nodded to Freaja. "Besides, I believe it is . . . quite fitting, that our Lady can find such solace in creatures we would probably never give a second thought about keeping."

Freaja sighed. "It was either that, or mana-wyrmlings," she said, before she put her hand out and made an easy gesture; allowing the cockroach to finally open its wings and fly off to seek a new hiding place in the ship. Making a dusting-off motion with her hands, she said, "Besides, I was taught to respect such creatures. After all, they do not know what they mean to giants like us, so why punish them for it?"

Liam nodded. "So true, my Lady." He looked over, just as Hanna was mounting the steps from the main deck. "Hanna, is everything all right?"

"Aye, Liam. Th' mounts an' th' wagon are all secure," The sturdy-made dwarf woman said. "Though I just had a word wi' th' Cap'n, an' he's only a wee bit concerned wi' a storm his men spied on th' horizon." She nodded towards the north. "Seems t'be a lot o' them comin' up lately."

Liam frowned, and even Freaja looked concerned. "Why is that, I wonder?"

"Accordin' tae th' Cap'n, there's been a lot o' activity dreggin' up cold wind from th' North," Hanna said. "It's wreakin' havoc across most o' th' Northern sea lanes, an' makin' it hard fer e'en the Horde an' th' Alliance t'cross between Azeroth an' Kalimdor. Th' reports from th' trader guilds is e'en worse. Almost every commerce lane is shut down fer the 'nonce."

Rhandall looked to Liam. "Could this be more trouble caused by that blasted Scourge, ye think, Lad?"

Liam shook his head. "When last I spoke to the elders of my order, they mentioned that the Scourge had pulled back to their original holdings; back beyond the northern borders and well within reach of the former hold in Northrend." Crossing his arms, he scowled all the more deeply.

Freaja shook herself. "Do you believe . . . the Scourge is extending their reach, once more?"

"Why would they need tae?" Hanna asked. "Last I heard, th' bloody bastards sacked all o' Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas."

"Aye. what more is there fer them t'take?" Rhandall asked.

Hearing that question, Freaja looked away towards the direction of her homeland; her face turning pale.

"There is much about the Scourge we cannot, do not understand, my friends," Liam said. "Since Arthas' first thrusts into the northern kingdoms laid waste to both his homeland at that of the Highborne, he suddenly stopped his advances and pulled out." He looked grim as he turned and started pacing in front of the trio. "When his forces withdrew back to Northrend, it was said the Scourge appeared to lose all interest in occupying those lands."

"And yes . . . the Scourge still threaten my homeland," Freaja whispered.

Liam stopped, and with a wan smile, he said, "True, but hopefully we shall not have to deal with them, my Lady." Liam explained. "Once we arrive in Southshore, I will inquire to some of the local humans there as to what activity is going on in the surrounding lowlands."

"Is that wise, Lad?" Rhandall asked. "Th' Horde have a few small outposts near Southshore. We'd be askin' fer trouble if we tried t'go over the Arathi mountains, as just us four."

"It may be our only course, Rhandall."

Hanna jabbed Rhandall with her elbow. "Don' go bringin' up Aerie Peak again, cousin! If I know Liam, he's pretty much figured that would take too long t'go that route. As I already knew." Ignoring the black look her cousin gave her, Hanna looked at Liam, asking, "So, if we do go through the Arathi, have ye figured out how we'll get 'round th' Plaguelands, Laddie?"

"If we go as I plan, we should not need to go near the Plaguelands, Hanna." He gave Freaja a reassuring look. "To do so would be suicide. That much, we can all agree on, hm?"

"Yes," Freaja said. "That I do agree."

"Aye," Hanna said, nodding.

Huffing, Rhandall merely jerked his head once. "Oh . . . right, then. But, I still say we're better off goin' t'our homelands instead." Folding his thick arms over his chest, the dwarf snorted and leaned back against the rail.

.

oOoOo

.

_In the far northern lands, in the former Highborne city of Silvermoon . . . _

Coming into through the doorway of the low apartments, the tall, cloaked figure of a Blood Elven ranger paused to nod at a pair of leather-clad guards before continuing on inside. Ruddy-faced and sporting a wild fox-tail of blue-black tresses, the ranger marched into the lower salon beyond -- ignoring the rich decor and comfortable furniture -- before mounting a spiral stair leading upwards into a second floor.

In due course, he stalked to a stop at the edge of a wide inner chamber; the majority of which was taken up with twin tables, covered with wide parchment maps and smaller piles of scrolls, papers and bound books. The walls were lined with weapons -- some old enough to have been wielded during the Third War, others new enough to have come off the forges just the other day.

Standing at one of the tables was another Farstrider; bearing the flash of a Ranger-Captain. Clad in leather armor and wearing a Sin'dorei warblade and quiver of warshafts, this blood-elf had his sun-blond hair combed back in a rakish angle, nearly covering his right eye as he stared down at one of the wide maps spread before him. Behind this elf, a pair of younger blood-elf rangers stood on attendance; turning with their hands on their weapons as they took notice of the dark-haired Ranger.

Not bothering to acknowledge them, Parin Wildheart cleared his throat. "Forgive my rushed appearance, Captain Sunblight."

Without turning around, the sun-tressed Ranger merely nodded. "You are forgiven, Lieutenant. Report?"

"Captain . . . I--." He swallowed thickly. "I have a report from one of your watcher posts; delivered by sunhawk just within the past hour."

At that, the Ranger-Captain's voice pitched a bit higher. "Oh? From which posting, Lieutenant?"

Parin stepped past the two rangers at Captain Sunblight's back, moving to stand at the table as he said, "From the watchers near the Stranglethorn camps, near the human lands called Westfall. They . . . they report, that they have found the group of Ulgo'm slavers in the wilds." He paused. "Every one, slaughtered to the last!"

At that, Jakhor Sunblight did turn his head to stare at Parin; his dark-green eyes wide and cold as he slowly rose from his bend-position over the map. "Killed? Every last one?"

"Yes, sir. Not one survived . . . it is believed they were attacked by Alliance forces," Parin said. "Surprise attack, during the night."

Straightening up completely, Jakhor tipped his head to the side as if weighing his next words. "And, what of the slaver's . . . cargo?"

"Nothing but empty cages, Sir." Parin paused again.

"Empty," Jakhor said flatly. "No bodies to be found?"

"None, but . . . sir, part of the report came from Captain Neph'anis. He said . . . he said that he was pursuing--."

"Pursuing!?" The Ranger-Captain's voice was sharp as a whip crack. "Pursuing whom, Lieutenant?"

Trying to muster his courage, Parin said softly, "He is pursuing, the _sin'osa_, sir."

At that, Jakhor Sunblight's face transformed from surprised pique to outright murderous rage. "WHAT!?!" He whirled away and, in a motion too quick to follow, he lashed out and smote the nearest young ranger a hard blow across his face. Unable to protect himself, the young blood elf collapsed like a boneless mana wyrm to the floor.

"Burn all to cinders and scorched bones!" Captain Sunblight whirled back to face the Lieutenant. "I gave orders to the effect, that should the slavers be unable to hold onto her, that the _sin'osa_ Bloodsun was to be killed!" Seething, he advanced on the dark-haired elf to put himself almost in Parin's face. "If at the least, those blasted Alliance dogs should have murdered her when they found her! What, happened?!"

"As far as the report tells, Sir, the _sin'osa_ was still alive and the Alliance forces took her with them. For what reason--?"

Snorting, Captain Sunblight turned away and scowled at the maps on the table. "Who could ever reason what humans will or won't do, Lieutenant," he snapped. "This news is most . . . inconvenient. Measures will have to be taken, in order to insure that this will not disrupt my plans." He turned back to face the Lieutenant. "Send out orders to any and all Farstrider patrols, as well as those Guardians that have been assigned to bolster our ranks. We must expand their reach, to begin reinforcing our presence in the lands beyond our borders, into the Plaguelands themselves."

"Into the Plaguelands? Sir?"

"Yes, the Plaguelands!"

Parin blanched stark-white. "But there is still a sizable presence of Scourge in those wasted lands. To send our forces in--?"

Captain Sunblight thundered, "The Scourge be HANGED! I have worked too long and hard for my plans to come to fruition, to allow that sin'osa Bloodsun to foul them up at the last moment!" He was practically preparing to draw his weapon on the hapless Lieutenant, as he said, "Send out our forces and have them watch for any Alliance scum traveling northwards across the Plaguelands. If that blasted traitor is found, I want her killed the moment she is sighted. Do you understand!?"

Lieutenant Parin nodded and saluted hastily. "Yes, Sir. I will leave to issue your orders at once!"

"Do that, and let not one patrol return to Silvermoon until Bloodsun's head is brought before me!" He nodded to the two guards -- one of which was now recovering from his vicious blow -- and snarled, "Leave me, now!"

Lieutenant Parin saluted again and turned, leaving the room with the two guards in a rush.

Scowling blackly, Captain Sunblight turned back to his table and maps, leaning over the edge to prop himself on his knuckles as he stared down at them. _Sun strike me blind!_ he thought to himself. _Those accursed slavers couldn't be trusted to do the job properly, and my own forces afield have failed me . . . just when I am so, so very close to completing the greatest coup ever planned._

He swept his gaze over the map, taking note of the position of every mark and notation -- where it recorded all of his Farstrider troops and those of the wretched Blood Knights as well. His eyes were fixed firmly on the locus of several troops, where they were placed near the picture of an Amani Troll ziggurat; at the edge of the Troll's small territory.

Just then, another Farstrider entered the room, pausing before he saluted the Captain. "Sir, a message from Lord Lor'themar Theron. He requests your presence to report the status of our forces afield."

Captain Sunblight nodded, though inwardly he sneered. "Very well, I shall be with them . . . shortly. Leave me." As the Ranger departed, The second-in-command of all of Silvermoon's rangers turned back to inspect his maps once more. _If I cannot make those fools that lead us see the wisdom of truth . . . then, I shall force the issue, and make sure those blasted Blood Knights pay for it, in the dearest coin of all!_ Straightening, he smirked a private smile as he muttered, "Only then, will the honor of the Rangers -- and my own personal slights -- be cleansed." With that said, he whirled away from the table and departed to meet with the current ruler of Silvermoon . . . .

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	12. Chapter 12

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"Book One : The Blessed Light"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : Thanks to all who've read and reviewed this story so far! You don't know how much I appreciate getting any feedback from my readers! Do keep reading... trust me, this ride is only just getting to the good parts! -- S.  
_

-==-

Twelve

On the shores of the Hilsbrad Plains, in the southern part of what was once the proud human kingdom, a last pocket of humanity sits on the threshold of the contested lands of the continent of Lordaeron.

This place is Southshore; a remnant village, surrounded by verdant farmlands that sit within the shadow of the Alterac Mountains. Here, bordered by the cursed lands of Silverpine, Tirsfal and the high, hill country of Arathi, the last descendants of those who survived the last Great War work hard to defend their home against all who would threaten it -- be they of the Horde, the Forsaken or the Scourge.

It is here, that the privateer ship, the _**Eon Osprey**_, made landfall with her special, passengers aboard . . . .

oOoOo

"Make fast, you louses! Secure those lines, run out all anchors and stays! Bosun!"

"Sah!?"

"Get those hatches open and stir those lazy swabs down below! We've got a schedule to keep!" Captain Handel barked as he stood on the foredeck, directing his crewmen about their tasks. The ship had made sighting of South Shore within the past hour, and as soon as the fast galleon had tacked up to the dock, her sailors were quick to swarm up and down the rigging and ropes.

On the docks themselves, workers and soldiers of the local militia worked alongside to aid the sailors as they began the laborious task of off-loading the ships cargo. Already, several long planks and a wide gangway were being secured against the gunwales to allow the men to start unloading of the _**Eon Osprey**_.

Watching from the side on he main deck, Liam was working with Hanna to prepare their wagon and mounts for disembarkation. "Our captain seems eager to secure us and relieve his ship of her cargoes," he muttered, tightening the straps the saddle mounted on his frostsaber cat, Sabine.

"Aye, both materials and passengers, Laddie," the dwarf female said. She had the rigging and straps of the wagon prepared; the two rams she and her cousin used as mounts now tethered to the shaft between them. "I just got th's word from yon first-mate Crispy. Cap's Handel wants us off ship as soon as we're able."

"I wonder why? We're finally arrived in South shore--."

"I take it he doesn't feel safe here, Laddie." Flipping her long, golden-red braid back over her shoulder, she huffed before saying, "Considering what storms have been sighted 'tween here an' Menenthil an' Stormwind, 'tis nae wonder any captain worth his sails wouldn't want t'stay either land bound or in the wake o' th' Maelstrom these days."

"Aye, 'tis due tae all th' blasted Hordies that come down out o' th' high country!" This came from Rhandall, who was leading Freaja across the deck, as they had been coming up from below deck. "I just heard from one o' th' lads what fill th' billets in th' garrison . . . 'tis bad times fer these people. Raids an' th' like comin' nearly every day. Hordies an' e'en th' bloody Scourge makin' mischief. An' these people have nearly not th' numbers t'keep th' whole town safe."

Liam nodded. "I dare say you are right about that, my friend." He turned away from adjusting the saddle, before adding, "What with all Alliance forces being spread as they are, all of the outlying settlements are sure to be hard-pressed to maintain a safe haven."

"An' with all that, yer certain we should be gettin' off ship here, Lad?" Rhandall asked.

"Must as I would like not to, I agree with your companion, Knight," Freaja said. "With such raids, the garrison here is sure to be on high alert." She glanced around, lowering her voice as she drew close. "I am not so easily hidden this time, unlike before your capital's gates."

Liam said, "Be that as it may, we will still depart from Southshore, my Lady. It is the only place left that can provide us with ready supplies for the trip we must take." He nodded to his two friends. "Besides, between the three of us, we can keep your identity safe from the garrison forces."

"So you say," Freaja said, frowning.

Hanna gave her a wry look. "Th' laddie's done his level best, keepin' yer head out o' trouble so far. Give him th' benefit of th' doubt, that he'll continue t'do so, hm?"

"It is not your friend I doubt, dwarf," Freaja said. "It's his own people I dare not lower my guard to."

Liam stared at the Sin'dorei woman for a span of heartbeats. "For all that I wish it were otherwise, you are well to keep your wits and guard about you, my Lady." He sighed. "At least, until we are well clear of Southshore. I feel our story, of you being a Highborne returning to Aerie Peak, will be better believed coming from a Knight of the Silver Hand."

Freaja merely nodded.

"Speaking of which, what are we t'do once we're off this floatin' pile o' toothpicks, Lad?" Rhandall asked.

"While I speak with one of the innkeepers about the status of the roads, you and Hanna must go and secure the remainder of the perishables we need for the journey ahead."

"Aye, we'll see to that, Lad."

"What about our lassie here, Liam?" Hanna asked.

"She'll be with me," Liam said. "However, the two of you be quick about it. The sooner we are on the road for our destination . . . ."

Both dwarves nodded. "Aye, Lad. We'll not dilly-dally, you can count on that." With that, both Hanna and Rhandall started seeing to the rest of the preparations on the wagon.

Liam moved off to stand next to the side rail of the ship, staring out at the collection of buildings and scattered smattering of people moving among them. Bracing his hands on the side, he frowned slightly before turning to watch as Freaja moved up to stand with him. "My Lady?"

"I only wished to offer, an observation, Knight." She glanced sideways, towards inland. "As your . . . dwarf companion stated before, there is a Horde presence in these lands, not far from this town." Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly before she said, "I understand that you have, well . . . given your oath to see me returned to my people, but would it not be better served for me -- for yourself -- if you were to simply let me travel to the Horde outpost, alone? There is certain to be representatives of the Sin'dorei there--."

"I understand your feelings, Lady," Liam said. "And, were it as simple as that, I would . . . make an exception to my oath and allow you to go." He looked at her squarely and shook his head. "However, this is nothing as simple as it seems, or have you forgotten about the attacks in Goldshire and Ironforge?"

At that, Freaja stiffened as a mask of fear slipped over her face.

"Yes, you have not . . . and that is why I must continue to honor my word to see to your safe return." Liam cocked his head. "My Lady, your own countrymen have sought to see you killed as a traitor. I must wonder, why that is?" When Freaja looked away sharply, Liam lifted one hand to touch her chin, and bring her gaze back to his face. "Lady, if you have committed a crime against your own--?"

"No!" Freaja wasn't so incensed that she cried out, but it was clear his simple question upset her. "I may be a Blood Elf, Knight, but I am no traitor. Not to my people, much less to the Horde!"

"Then, why would those Rangers seek your death?"

Freaja held his gaze, but she did not answer his question.

Sighing, Liam released her chin and shook his head again. "Then, there is a mystery here, Lady. One that must be solved, before you can ever consider yourself safe among the lands of your people." He looked away, before turning back to her, smiling wanly. "So, I will not only see you safely home, but I also will offer my aid to you, to learn whom is trying to kill you."

"I will not need such aid, Knight," Freaja said crossly. "There is no need--."

"There is, even if you are blind to see it, Lady. As a paladin, I must follow the dictates of my order, my beliefs, to aid someone in need."

"But, it is not what I--!"

"I understand your wants, Freaja. Still, I will not be swayed. Until I am certain you are completely safe, you are not rid of me as of yet, my Lady."

Freaja stared at him in silence, then she said, "You . . . you, you impossible human!" Seething, her voice was a harsh whisper as she raised her hands to curl them into fists. "I know not why the Eternal Sun has saddled me with your cursed honor and your duty, but if I ever live to see the end of it, I--!"

Suddenly, Liam glanced down at her hands; his eyes widening as he quickly reached out and took hold of one of her wrists. "My Lady!" His tone was not harsh, but the undertone of urgency undercut Freaja's ranting. "Your hands!"

Looking down, Freaja felt her anger melt like ice on a hot day as she beheld what he saw. "No . . . no, not again!" Sure enough, her hands were visibly shaking in short, violent tremors that lasted for only a moment . . . but it was a moment enough to confirm one of her fears.

Liam said, "The effects of the holy power I infused into you days ago . . . are fading."

Her eyes shot up to look at him, as her voice trembled. "No. I had . . . I hoped, that you had--!" She clasped her hands together, closing her eyes as she vehemently willed her hands to cease shaking. "I hoped I was cured of this affliction!"

"Apparently not," Liam said. "Still, if the infusion worked before, to cure your fever and illness, another may work to prevent a relapse of withdrawal."

At that, Freaja opened her eyes and gasped. "You, y-you would, do so again, Knight?"

"Indeed, my Lady." Liam looked around, seeing the bustle of the crew about them. "But, not here. If you can hold out, we can be outside of Southshore, where I can perform the healing prayer once more."

"Can you not do it . . . well, in the inn inside this township, Knight?"

Liam shook his head, frowning. "I would rather do so, where we would not be discovered. Much as this town would seem to be safe . . . for you, it would become a prison or a death-trap, if we were found out by the local militia."

Freaja glanced at Liam, seeing the pinched expression on his face. "There is more than you are telling, Knight. I can see it. You . . . are worried, about staying here? I thought you said this place would be safe."

Liam looked back towards the skies on the horizon, grimacing at the sight of darkening clouds and the soft flash of lightning among them. "Unless I miss my guess . . . though we journey away from Stormwind, I fear the darkness gathering there, may soon come to even this corner of our world. When that happens . . . ." He looked at her with eyes that seemed far older that they should've been. "When that happens, my Lady, I fear there will be no safe haven, anywhere."

oOoOo

From the expressions on the faces of the two guards -- both garbed in the white and blue colors of Hillsbrad's armed militia -- it would be clear to any of the villagers present that they marched with purpose towards the tall edifice of the town hall to seek out any one member of the leadership of their small, ocean side town. Both grim and sporting the short, close-cut cropped styles favored by the warrior-class of Stormwind, they made for an imposing sight as they mounted the wooden steps and made their way inside.

There, in the common room that dominated the lower part of the hall, another armored figure who was looking over a sheaf of parchment reports as he stood near a wide table. Looking up briefly from his reading, the lone militia-man turned to face the guardsmen -- saluting them as they did so.

"Sergeant Hickson . . . Corporal Tuckman," Marshal Marcus Redpath said in acknowledgement. "What is your report?"

Stocky Sergeant Hickson said, "Sir, a ship has just arrived within the past hour and . . . there were some passengers aboard her."

Redpath nodded. "Not unusual." he said, before turning away to begin sorting his papers.

"Sir, these passengers are a knight, two dwarves and . . . what we think is an elf," the Sergeant said pointedly.

At that, the dark-haired officer arched one eyebrow. "Um-hm?"

"Yes, sir." Corporal Tuckman bobbed his head. "They unloaded several mounts and a wagon on the docks . . . and, we believe they are going to travel in-land. Somewhere . . . we can't say for certain."

"Is there a law against that, that I'm unaware of, gentleman?" Redpath asked over his shoulder.

"Sir, both the Sergeant and I . . . well, we believe the elf may be a Sin'dorei!"

That, made the Marshal drop his papers as he turned to stare hard at the two guardsmen. "A Blood Elf? Here? In Southshore," he asked. When both men nodded with conviction, he turned back to the table and retrieved a long broadsword in a scabbard laying there. "Gentlemen, let's investigate this . . . elf. We've had too many raids lately for this to be just a coincidence, and if it is one of those blasted mana-suckers, I want them in shackles and put away before another minute passes! Move!"

oOoOo

Standing at the head of the buckboard wagon, Hanna Sturmhahn grunted as she caught a heavy pack filled with provisions tossed up to her by her cousin. "OOF!" She dropped it next to the other packs in the wagon, before turning to scowl at the rusty-red haired male dwarf on the ground. "What are ye packin' in these, Rhan!? We're only goin' inland tae the northlands fer a short time, not t'bloody well stay f'ever!"

From where he stood in front of the inn, Rhandall merely shrugged and said, "Liam said t'get all the perishables we needed. So, That's what I got."

Scowling, Hanna reached for the ties of another pack and started to undo them.

"Hey, leave off that, me girl!" Rhandall protested.

Hanna didn't stop until she'd gotten the pack opened and, reaching inside, she pulled out a metal flask with a wax-sealed stopper. "Ach, I should'a known." She raised the neck of the flask to her nose, sniffing before she wrinkled her face. "Blackmoor Rum . . . ugh!"

Rhandall scowled. "What? Liam said--!"

"Liam said only the perishables we need fer this journey, you rum-bellied booby!" Hanna rummaged through the pack, and found several more flasks of potent brews. "Yer just lucky these can be traded back, e'en though we'll lose some coin in the doin'."

"Now, see here, lass!" Rhandall sputtered. "I'll not be goin' off intae th' wilds, wi'out some fortification t'take along!"

Shoving the flasks back into the pack, Hanna grunted as she slipped over the side of the wagon and bounced up to shove a thick finger in front of Rhandall's face. "Th' last thing we need is you all 'sodded up, Rhan. Liam will need every one o' us with clear wits before this whole 'venture is said an' done." With a growl, she shouldered the pack and started stomping back towards the inn's entrance. "Finish loadin' those supplies! I'll be back wi' some more jerky," she called back over her shoulder.

Rhandall's beard was bristling as he watched her go. "Why, ye--! Och! Yer father will be hearin' 'bout this, when we get back tae th' mountain!" He added under his breath, "If we ever get back, that is."

As Hanna stalked into the inn, she passed by Liam and Freaja; both human and elf moving aside to let the blustering female through. They both shared a guarded look, before moving to join Rhandall at the wagon. "Rhandall, why is your cousin upset?"

Rhandall shot Liam a dark look.

"Ah, I can surmise, then." He sighed. "Well, we should finish preparations to leave as soon as possible. I want us to be on our way before nightfall."

"Aye, Lad," Rhandall said gustily, heaving the last of the heavy packs into the back of the wagon. "Once my cousin returns, we can be well on our way!"

"Good," Liam said. He looked to Freaja. "My Lady, if you will--." He stopped, his head turning to the side as his eyes widened slightly.

"What is it?" Freaja asked, just as she turned to follow Liam's gaze; her own expression turning pale with concern as she spied the approach of three armored men, bearing the blue and white tabards of the local militia. Reaching up, she adjusted her cloak and hood to insure her face was hidden, before moving to stand just behind Liam.

From where he stood next to the wagon, Rhandall looked grimly at the trio of men. "Hnnnh. Lad?"

Liam merely made a gesture towards the dwarf, before he nodded as the soldiers drew to a stop in front of them.

"Knight, I am Marshall Redpath."

"Marshall, I am Liam mac Roi, of the Order of the Silver Hand." He made a short bow. "What may I for you?"

"We are simply curious . . . as to your business here in Southshore?" Marshall Redpath asked.

"We are simply purchasing supplies, before we continue on to Aerie Peak." Liam said.

"I see," the Marshall said. He glanced at Rhandall for a moment, then over to Freaja. "Are these your companions, Knight?"

"Yes, Rhandall and Hanna Sturmhahn -- his cousin -- are both from the Aerie Peak. She is acquiring the last of the provisions we need for the trip." Liam said.

Redpath nodded. "And, your other companion here?" He nodded towards Freaja.

Liam glanced at her, before saying, "This is Freya Highspire. She is journeying along with us. With all of the Horde activity your men have reported, it makes sense for us to go as a group, hm?"

"Yes, that it is." Redpath studied the tall elf-woman for several heartbeats. "What is her business in Aerie Peak, if I might ask?"

Freaja had half-turned away, but Liam spoke for her. "She goes to Aerie Peak, to visit comrades who are staying in the Farstrider lodge there. Being one of the Highborne, her duties has taken her far from her home . . . we merely wish to return her there."

"I see." Redpath studied Freaja for a moment, before he sighed. "Forgive me for questioning you, Knight. With all of the Horde raider activity that has come against our village, we . . . tend to be a bit suspicious of new arrivals."

Liam nodded. "Understandable, Marshall. It has been harsh, I've heard."

Sighing, Redpath said, "'Harsh' isn't a word I would us, Knight. We do what we can, but the raids are increasing with regular frequency." He held up his hands and shrugged. "I've tried to get more men allocated from nearby garrisons or from Stormwind--!"

"Believe me, I can sympathize, Marshall." Liam said. "My own Order is spread thin across multiple fronts. For what it is worth, though, I feel you and your people are doing well enough to keep Southshore safe."

Redpath nodded to Liam. "The thought is appreciated, Knight." He shrugged, then nodded to his men. "Well, since there's nothing here for us to deal with, I'll return with my men to our duties and give you well-wishes for a safe journey."

"You have my thanks, Marshall."

Just then, the sound of someone exiting the inn drew the attention of Redpath and his men. Huffing under the weight of a couple of sacks, Hanna muttered under her breath as she quickly trudged her way up to the wagon.

Rhandall scowled at the haste she was making. "Hanna, be careful wi' those--!"

Suddenly, the dwarf female stumbled -- her foot skidding across a patch of slick, wet grass. With a grunt, she tried to recover, but the weight of the sacks in her arms made her effort fruitless as she slid forwards and staggered towards the group. Redpath and his men dodged, as did Liam, but Hanna crashed into Freaja before the slim woman could back away. Both dwarf and elf hit the ground in an ungainly sprawl, while the contents of the sacks spilled out around them . . . .

"What in the--!?" Redpath and his men looked on in surprise.

From his perch, Rhandall muttered, "Scorch it all!"

On the ground, Freaja shook her head . . . only to look up at the humans in shock and fear, as her hood had fallen away to reveal her face and her pointed ears. Her eyes went wide, staring up at the Marshall first, then to Liam.

"Hellfire! A Sin'dorei!" Redpath and his soldiers reached for their swords. "Don't move you--!"

"Hey, Laddie!" Rhandall shouted. "Catch!"

Redpath looked up, just in time to see that the elder dwarf hunter had hoisted a heavy pack over his head, before he hurled it at the Marshall. Fumbling to recover, the sheer weight of the pack caught him high on his chest; slamming him back against his men, driving them down onto the ground amid the clatter of metal and cries of surprise and pain.

Before they were even in free-fall, Rhandall turned and bellowed at the others, "C'mon! B'fore they have th' whole bloody garrison on our necks!"

Scrambling to her feet, Hanna bolted for the wagon, vaulting over the back while Rhandall slipped over the back of the driver's bench to scoop up the reins.

Liam wasted no time; reaching down to yank Freaja to her feet, before spinning them around to mount Sabine. He'd barely gotten her boosted up into the saddle, when a hand slapped down onto his arm.

"Hold fast, you-!!" The soldier that had recovered from being knocked down with Marshall Redpath had every intention of dragging Liam's flight to a halt . . . only the metal-clad fist thrown into his face put an end to that plan.

"Forgive me!" Liam got up into the saddle behind Freaja, and jabbed both heels into the sabercat's side. "MOVE!" he shouted, as the massive feline lurched forwards, heading away from the inn at a fast gallop. Already, Rhandall and Hanna had spurred their rams, causing the wagon to bounce and rattle as they charged up the road that lead out of Southshore.

Behind them, Marshall Redpath had recovered, and he and his men had their weapons out as they dashed after the feeling foursome. "Guards! To arms! A Hordesman with that wagon! Stop THEM!"

From all over the township, men and women of the militia were turning away from task and post; responding to the loud shout of alarm. Even as Liam and the others were racing away from the village center, clusters of armed guards and footmen were rushing to block their exodus. For some, they were too slow and were forced to run like mad after them. For others, they tried to jump in front of them, weapons raised to disable or deter. For that, they either had to make the choice of leaping aside -- to avoid being trampled -- or to take a smiting blow from Liam's greatsword or Hanna's axe head to drive them aside.

Over the noise and shouting, Rhandall roared, "Liam! We cannae head fer th' Peaks now!"

Liam snarled, kicking off another militia-man that had tried to leap up and unseat him and Freaja from his mount. "Turn left! Head down that road!"

When they got to the point in the road -- where a long, stone road that fell going east and west across their path -- Rhandall and Liam turned left, rolling amid a cloud of dust and pebbles as they shook off the last of their pursuers. Even though a few stalwart men tried to follow, they were soon left behind as the fugitives quickly vanished into the Hilsbrad countryside . . . .  
.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	13. Chapter 13

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"Book One : The Blessed Light"**

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Thirteen

"Well . . . this, is, just, peachy!"

From her perch on the wagon's buckboard seat, Hanna looked over at her cousin and scowled. "Yer nae helpin' th' situation by throwin' a hissy-fit, Rhan."

Glaring back at her, Rhandall stomped savagely across the ground as he carried an armful of prepared firewood over and dropped it unceremoniously next to a small, banked fire pit; the light casting a pale orange glow and looming shadows on the towering trees surrounding their campsite. It was nighttime, and the dwarves were standing watch in the middle of a massive forest, several miles north of Southshore.

When Hanna could see her cousin wasn't going to even snap back, it was a sure sign that he was royally ticked off. "Rhan," she sighed, "it cannae be as bad as ye think--?"

"Oh, this situation is far, far worse, so that nothin' I could ever do would nae help it one whit, Cousin!"

Hanna snorted, shifting her position so that her hunting rifle was propped across her thighs. "Still, grousin' over what we both cannae control doesn't do us one whit o' good, an' ye know it!"

Rhandall just grumped, before he stalked back over to where the mounts had been lashed to a metal bar, driven into a nearby stone. "Maybe . . . but nothin's against me just voicin' my dislike of this whole affair!" He checked the ties, then straightened up and gestured to the surrounding trees and low hills around them. "So much fer th' plan t'go the long way 'round th' Arathi mountains! Now that those bloody men in Southshore know who we are, an' who's travelin' wi' us . . . we'll be lucky if we can make it past them wi'out th' entire garrison givin' chase!" Turning to look at his cousin again, he added, "Plus, we're so far off from any friendly lands, I doubt we'll ever find our way back!"

Hanna snorted again. "Oh, we'll get home, or I don't have any faith in Liam . . . and just use yer head, ya dunderheaded wineskin! We're somewhere near th' forests o' Silverpine," she said, glancing around. "Spooky enough t'be that place. Seein' as th' ruins o' Loredaeron are just on th' other side of those peaks o'er there."

Rhandall shivered. "Don' be remindin' me o' that, Hanna!" He shot a look over his shoulder at the very peaks Hanna had just named. "Just thinkin' o' that place . . . a verified city o' death! Ugh! I hope we ne'er catch sight o' it."

"Be that as it may," Hanna said, "for th' 'nonce, we've got other things t'worry about." She nodded back to where one of their tents -- showing signs of being hastily erected -- sat across the fire pit. "They've been in there fer far too long, an' it worries me."

Rhandall just nodded. "Aye. Liam said he needed t'give yon lass another healin', an' I agree. 'Tis too long . . . an' I'm just as worried. Liam's own power isn't meant to be used in such a manner." With a scowl, he stalked to the fire and fed it some more wood. "Faugh! Damned elf-woman! Mark my words, cousin. She'll be leadin' him an' us tae a bad end, before it's all said an' done."

oOoOo

Inside the tent, the other-worldly glow of blue light faded into nothing, as Liam finished his chanting prayer and lowered his hands from Freaja's own body and hand. Letting out a long breath, the paladin slowly sank back onto his knees and heels; his bearded face wreathed with exhaustion.

For her own part, Freaja opened her eyes and let out a breath she had not realized she'd held back. Blinking, she looked down at her hands and let a soft sound of relief slip past her lips. "Thank the Sun!" she murmured, seeing that her fingers and hands no longer shook with the tremors of the onset of the winnowing affliction.

Liam let his head dip down, so his chin touched his chest. "It . . . is finished . . . my Lady."

Freaja nodded. "Yes . . . and, it seems to have worked, again."

Liam looked up at her, seeing her stare at her hands. For a moment, he blinked and stared hard at her eyes, which seemed to be glowing with a soft, muted blue light. Yet, a moment later, they were back to the deep green they had always been, prior to her usual state when they glowed with the sick, Fel-touched green that was the hallmark of all Sin'dorei.

Sensing his gaze, Freaja looked at him and asked, "Are you well, knight?"

"I am . . . tired, my Lady." With a moan, Liam shifted so he was more or less seated on his rump; folding his legs before him. "Like before, in the ice cave . . . the infusion of the Light . . . drains me. I feel . . . exhausted. I must rest."

Freaja dipped her head in acknowledgement. "I . . . understand." She bit her lip as she studied him. "Do you think, that this will be necessary to perform again? After this second time?"

Shaking his head, Liam said, "I cannot . . . say, for certain." He drew in a deep breath, before slowly lifting his head to look at her. "I was not even sure that the Light's power would sustain you . . . in the absence of the Fel-magicks that your people usually take on." He craned his neck, rubbing it as if it were stiff. "Yet, it seems to have . . . sufficed, for now."

"So, you would consider it a cure?" Freaja looked down at her hand again. "I was told once that there was no cure for my people's dependence on demon-borne energies."

"That, I . . . I cannot say, Lady." Liam inhaled deeply. "Still, if there is a means to effect a proper cure, I . . . I may be able to find it, given enough time."

"Enough time?" Freaja stared hard at Liam. "Are you saying that I should remain with you for much longer that you are planning, knight!? You promised to merely see me safely to my home!"

Liam sat upright. "I shall endeavor to do just that . . . yet, if there is something to using the Light, that can eventually cure you of this dependency on Fel-magic--?"

"Not at the inconvenience of having you around! Oh, you impossible human!" Freaja surged to her feet. "I cannot have you remaining in my company when I am finally returned to my people! As it stands, you risk your own life being this close to the lands held by the Forsaken." Turning, she quickly reached down and snagged a full travel pack laying nearby. "I should have heeded my own advice, and just left you and your companions back in South Shore."

"What are you doing, Lady?" Liam started to rise.

"I am leaving, knight. This close to the ruins of Lordaeron, I can at least find a Horde presence and seek a much easier way back to Silvermoon." She turned, and with a snort, she brushed past Liam who fell down with a grunt.

"My Lady, no!" Liam tried to rise, but his weakened state he could not get back to his feet. "You, must not go--!"

"I shall, and there is nothing you can do to stop me! You have shown high honor, but now I must see to my own fortune. Farewell." With that, she flipped open the flaps of the tent's entrance and stormed outside.

Shaking his head, Liam struggled to shore himself up. There was a brief commotion outside the tent, before the entrance was thrown open again by Hanna, followed by her worried-looking cousin. "Liam!? What's wrong with ye, laddie?"

Rhandall asked, "Aye, an' what's up with our long-eared--?"

"She's . . . upset, and determined to strike out on . . . her own!" Liam said. "I tried to stop her . . . but I am still weak, from using my healing power on her."

Hanna dropped to his side, reaching for a pouch on her belt. "Ach, nae worry, Liam. I have a few restorative potions that'll get ye back intae th' pink o' health."

"Meanwhile, I'll go get our lassie an' bring her back!" Rhandall snorted. "She'll not be gettin' too far, not while I'm still able t'run." He turned to go.

"Rhandall, do not harm her," Liam said, holding off Hanna from pressing a bottle of curative potion to his lips. "She is only upset and not thinking properly!"

"Don' ye worry, Liam," Rhandall said over his shoulder. "I'll not harm one red hair on th' lass's Highborne head . . . if I canna help it!" With that, he shouldered his way past the tent flaps and was gone.

Liam looked worried, and Hanna could tell he wouldn't be content until he himself could see that the elf-woman was safely returned. "Liam, don' worry. My cousin may be afflicted wi' rocks in his head, but he'll return th' lassie wi'out harm."

"I hope he does," Liam said. "This close to the territories of the Horde and the Forsaken . . . we are all in danger."

"Lad, we're on th' fringes of Silverpine. A long way from e'en the main capital o' those undead misfits," Hanna said, raising the bottle back to his lips. "I don't think those two will get intae anythin' serious. Now, drink! We need tae get ye back on yuir feet . . . ."

oOoOo

Minutes away from the camp, and already making her way deep into the woods, Freaja was working her temper up to a rolling boil as she walked through the spaces between the trees.

"Impossible human! The audacity, giving me such hope . . . then telling me I would have to _remain_ with him for a cure!" Holding her cloak tight, she stalked through the underbrush, muttering under her breath as she swatted aside branches and tall grass in her path. "I didn't ask for his help! Not since the start of all of this, this . . . unwanted adventure," she growled. "If I ever live to see four-hundred years, I will never allow myself to be so helpless again!"

She paused and glanced around at the surrounding woods. A shiver gripped her body as she took in the forbidding air of the tall, dark pines and shadowy places in between them. Even though she was not a frail soul, she was not immune to the presence of corruption that lingered among the branches surrounding her.

"I will never be helpless," she muttered. "That is . . . if I can get back to my own home, by myself." She started forward again, only to stop when she heard the sound of something moving rapidly through the underbrush, coming up behind her. "Blessed Sun!" She turned and reached for a weapon . . . only to realize that she'd not thought to bring one with her when she left the camp! _Strike me blind for being a fool!_ she thought, moving to put her back against one of the trees. _I let my emotions get the better of me!_

Just then, the bushes parted, revealing the scowling, leather-clad form of Rhandall as he skidded to a stop upon seeing her.

"You!?" Freaja gasped.

"Aye, 'tis me all right!" His red beard bristling, Rhandall stalked towards her with his hands curled into fists.

"How could you have tracked--?"

"I'm a hunter, lassie, an' well guid fer you that I am!" He stopped a foot in front of her, glaring up at her surprised face. "Yer a damned fool fer jus' stormin' off intae th' wild like this . . . what wi' no tellin' what sort o' beasties are lurkin' about!" He reached out and grabbed her arm. "C'mon! Yer goin' back--."

Freaja snatched her arm back. "I will not!"

Rhandall growled. "Yer goin' back, even if I have tae box yer pointy-ears t'gether, an' carry ye back over me shoulder like a sack!"

Glaring back, Freaja said, "You can try it, dwarf . . . but I will not go down so easy."

"Oh, ye'll find I can do more than try, you stuck-up, Daughter-of-a Highborne snot!"

Slapping him with a vicious flick of her hand, she glared down at him. "Insolent son-of-a-troglodyte! I will not go back with you," she snapped. "Nor will I be chained to that damned knight you follow--!"

"Now, see here, lassie!" Rhandall rounded on her with a forefinger thrust up into her face. "I've had jus' about enough o' yer high-falootin' airs an' pompous attitude . . . especially since ye keep harpin' on th' lad! It's because o' Liam's creed an' good intentions t'offer ye aid that's kept yer rosy-pink backside alive!" He pulled back with a scowl so dark, it made the air around him seem bright. "If it had been up t'me, Lass, I'd ha' put a bullet in yer head an' left ye tae th' buzzards back in th' wilds where we found ye!" Despite her pale, shocked expression, Rhandall continued to rant. "Ye've done naught but get all o' our collective necks intae trouble, an' it's high time one o' us told you the truth! Why--!"

"Dwarf, you will--!" Freaja started to fire back in an angry tone . . . only to come up short as her ears suddenly pricked up. Under the sound of his angry words, she heard the faint sound of . . . voices?

"Dwarf, hssh!"

"Don' ye tell me t'shush, me girl! I'm not done wi'--!"

"Quiet, you overblown windbag," Freaja hissed. She cast about, staring off into the trees once more.

From the serious tone in her stance, Rhandall cut back his next retort, just before he cocked his own head to listen. "What is it?"

Freaja slowly shook her head. "I . . . do not know. It sounded like . . . someone speaking." Tipping her head back, she strained to pick up the faint sound she had just heard. "Somewhere . . . over there." She pointed off into the mass of trees behind her.

At that, Rhandall's training and instincts peaked. "Right, then. Stay put, lass."

Freaja blinked. "Why? You're not--!"

"I can see who's out there, an' defend th' both o' us better than ye can alone, lass." He moved past her, stepping towards the direction Freaja had indicated.

"Oh, I will not be left alone, again!" Freaja muttered. She started stalking after the short hunter, even as he moved through the trees at a brisk pace.

When they both suddenly emerged into a clear space in the middle of a deep copse of the forest, the first thing that struck both elf and dwarf at the same time was the smell. A stench, something akin to death, just not as foul as that of decay and desiccation . . . the reek of killing, done fresh.

The next was that there were bodies. Several, clearly human . . . if only from the few that were relatively intact.

Rhandall snorted to clear the odor from his nose. "Faugh!"

Holding her hand before her face, Freaja said softly, "What . . . could've caused this? This looks like a battlefield."

"'Twas nae battle that happened here, lass," Rhandall muttered. "These folk were attacked by somethin' . . . unnatural."

Before Freaja could ask, the sound of someone moaning broke through the night air. Turning, she cast her keen eyes around and . . . there! Movement against the underbrush, as a body of a man appeared to be crawling along the ground. "Dwarf, over there!"

Rhandall spun on his heels, catching sight of the stricken man. "Oy! Stay fast, man!" He moved quick to the side of the prone figure, turning him over before the poor soul could go much further. With a grunt, he eyed the man from his head to his waist; seeing the ruin of several wounds across his torso.

Freaja's eyes went wide at the appearance of the wretch before them. "Great Sun! What did this!?"

"Ach, this lad's in need o' help!"

"Oh . . . you cannot help, him."

Turning, both Freaja and Rhandall spied another man, standing with his back braced against another tree. From the looks of his blood-soaked shirt and cloak, it was clear he was as injured as the fellow on the ground. Slowly shaking his sweat-rimmed face, this blonde-haired man turned to look at the two of them.

I am . . . afraid, you are much . . . too late, to help any of us."

Rhandall snorted. "Yer in no condition t'say what time we may be in, laddie." He looked to Freaja. "C'mon, lass. We'll get these two back tae th' camp. We can at least get these two patched up wi' my cousin's help."

Freaja eyed the two humans with a fearful gaze. "Are you . . . sure that we should, dwarf?"

"Well, I'm not gonna leave them out here t'die!" He started to lean over to pick up the man on the ground.

"No . . . don't!" he croaked, trying to bat the dwarf's hands away. "Leave . . . while it is . . . not too . . . late!"

"You should really . . . listen, friend." The blond man moaned.

"Not while I've got breath in m'body." Rhandall grabbed hold of the downed man's shirt. "C'mon, ye blasted elf-woman! Help me wi' these--!"

"You . . . are . . . too late!" With that, the stricken human lashed out; the blow landing squarely against Rhandall's head, knocking the surprised dwarf backwards to land flat on the ground, unconscious.

"Dwarf?!" Freaja started to move towards him, only to feel the second human grab her arm and jerk her to a halt. Snapping her head around, she stared at the man in alarm. "What--?"

"He means, elf . . . it is too late for you to do anything for him." His voice took on a deep, menacing tone as he continued to speak. Letting her go, he gasped as he hugged his belly before glaring at her with blazing, yellow eyes. "As well, it is too late . . . for either of _you_!" With a sudden lurch, the blond man snarled, just before he surged towards Freaja with outstretched hands.

Hands that were covered with fur, and tipped with razor-sharp claws . . . .

oOoOo

Surging through the underbrush, Liam and Hanna both moved as quickly as they could -- what with Liam only just recovering from the restoring potions given to him, staggering behind the female dwarf as she swept her eyes over the ground ahead.

"Can you track them, Hanna?" Liam asked, holding a lit torch aloft to give her better light to see by.

"I'd be a poor hunter if I cannae track my own witless beer-keg of a cousin, Laddie," Hanna said tersely."Th' day that happens . . . I'll hang up m'rifle an' become a priest!" She slowed her pace, then frowned. "Ach, I think he found Freaja . . . but--?" Cutting herself off, she peered off to the side. "What, in the, name o' . . . Laddie. I think they went off that-a-way."

Liam nodded. "Lead on, friend."

Together, they followed the new track until they emerged into the middle of the sheltered copse and came face to face with the sight of the slaughtered humans.

"Oh, Blessed Light . . . what in all that is Holy--!"

"Hold on t'yer garters, Liam," Hanna said, unlimbering her rifle even as she swept the area with her keen eyes. "This dinnae look like somethin' neither th' lass nor Rhan is capable o' doin'. Besides . . . these poor scuppers have been long dead before recently."

Nodding, Liam started to slowly pace around the edge of the copse, eying the scattered bodies with a mixture of revulsion and pity. "Are there more signs of them, Hanna?"

Hanna ducked her head, squinting close at the churned up earth before her. "I think . . . there was a struggle, here. Freaja, at least from th' size o' these boot-marks."

Jerking his head around, Liam asked, "A struggle . . . with your cousin?"

"Nae, Laddie . . . somethin' . . . bigger. An' a lot more savage." She brushed away some ground litter, scowling. "Looks like she was dragged off further intae th' woods." Puffing out her cheeks, she added, "A sure bet either they took Rhan wi' them or he lit off after them."

Kneeling to examine one of the dead bodies more closely, Liam's face creased with new worry . . . before his eyes suddenly widened, and his body jerked upright. "No," he said in a soft voice. "No, it must not be!"

"Must not what be, laddie?" Hanna asked, coming over to where Liam was.

"These people . . . the way these wounds look, and the manner of their apparent death--!" He choked off his words, before he shuddered and closed his eyes. "I remember. I remember what I was taught, during my time spent in the garrisons. There was an old veteran -- a survivor of the Third War -- who spoke of many things he'd witnessed. One of which, was the aftermath of one battle . . . where an entire village had been ravaged. Every single living being slaughtered in a matter similar to these."

Hanna glanced at the corpses, before asking, "Liam, ye know then what did . . . all this?"

"Yes, my friend." Liam rose and put his hand on his sword. "As well as whom may have carried off your cousin and Lady Freaja . . . ." Stalking over towards one pile of the dead, he reached down and pulled one of the bodies aside, before glaring down at what had been revealed underneath.

Hanna came over and stared, her own breath hitching with fear, before she said, "Sweet mercy, no!" Laying there on the blood-soaked earth, its face pulled tight in a rictus mask of rage and pain, was the body of a creature; humanoid, but with dark fur and the muzzled head of a wolf.

"Yes," Liam said in an icy tone. "This carnage was done by an evil just as terrible as the Scourge: _worgen!_"

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	14. Chapter 14

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book Two"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**.  
DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

.

-==-

_The Story This Far..._

_.  
._

_After attacking a band of Orc slavers in the wilds of _**Duskwood**_, a trio of Alliance adventurers -- two Wildhammer Dwarves, cousins _**Hanna**_ and _**Rhandall Sturmhahn**_, and a Human paladin of _**Northshire,****Liam mac Roi**_ -- discover a lone female Blood Elf among the ruin of the caravan's cages; weak and near death._

_Seeing that this _**Sin'dorei**_ -- named _**Freaja**_ -- is in need of healing, Liam and the dwarves take her to the village of _**Goldshire**_ in _**Elwynn Forest**_. She is healed, but a raid by Sin'dorei Farstriders exposes her to the local Marshal. Given little choice, and because Liam gave his word to Freaja to see her safely returned to her people, the four begin to journey through _**Stormwind**_, the Dwarven kingdom of _**Ironforge**_ and the lands beyond, until they reach the contested shores of the lands south of the former-Human kingdom of _**Lordaeron**_._

_After camping for the night near the fringes of _**Silverpine Forest**_, Freaja attempts to leave their company and make her own way. Rhandall attempts to go and bring her back, but the two are waylaid by humans; victims of an attack by cursed _**Worgen**_, who have become cursed themselves. By the time Liam and Hanna arrive, their friends have been taken by their attackers deeper into bowels of the forest, forcing the paladin and hunter no choice but to follow . . . ._

.

.

-==-

Fourteen

_.  
In the forests of Silverpine . . . _

.  
With a splash of paws on the rain-soaked road, Liam drove his silver frostsaber mount onwards; his face set in a grim mask, armored hands clenched tight on the reins as he spurred the furry big-cat in her ribs. The big-cat was panting, huffing for a respite, yet Liam did not let up on the poor beast. His russet hair slicked back, and his armor slick from the pelting rain, he looked like a dire rider than a hero of the Grand Alliance as he pushed his mount onwards.

Behind him, clutching Liam's wide chain-mail belt was the red-haired dwarf, Hanna Sturmhahn. With her pouches and pack flopping against her sides, she grunted as every loping step of the spotted-white feline bounced her up and down. "Oof! Ugh! L-Liam?! L-l-laddie--!" Nearly biting her tongue off when one hard jolt rocked her almost off the saddle, she yanked hard on Liam's belt. "Liam! Slow down, man!"

Startled, Liam jerked his head around, staring back at the dwarf woman before his expression turned briefly sheepish. "Sorry, Hanna." Liam sighed, tugging on the 'cat's reins to slow her down a bit. "I don't mean to be treating you to a rough ride, my friend. It's--."

"Aye, I know. Och, just don't start goin' like guns fer garters again, or ye may lose me a mile behind ye." Flicking her head to cast her heavy, red braided hair behind her shoulder, she added, "Don't be so hard on yerself, Liam. Neither Rhan nor th' lass is dead . . . not yet."

Liam shook himself, scowling. "She might well be, Hanna. I should have never put her in a position where she felt . . . unsafe. And now--."

"Now, don't go beatin' yerself up o'er this! Ye need to keep yer wits about ye," Hanna said firmly. "We're both in nae better shape, bein' this deep in Forsaken territory, an' we'll do neither o' our friends any guid if we're captured or killed."

Liam nodded, reaching up to wipe away some of the wet on his face. "I know, I know." Having left their camp behind in the fringe-wilds of Silverpine's foothills, the paladin had run his mount hard until daybreak without pause; trying to track the trail of worgen that had headed deeper into the lands to the North.

_If I had only stopped Lady Freaja, before she'd run away like that--!_ Liam crossed himself. _Stop it! The If's will not save her, nor your friend's cousin. What is needed now is clear thinking and resolve!_ He broke off from his thoughts and turned to look at Hanna again. "You are certain of that track you picked up from the place we left behind?"

Hanna nodded. "Aye, 'twas nae easy, but whomever dragged off Freaja headed well intae this direction. 'Tis th' only sign I was able t'work from all th' scuffle-marks left back there."

Liam slowed them down to a stop, taking a moment to scan the surrounding countryside. On either side of the road, more and more trees could be seen for miles, while the road itself stretched back towards the south and towards the north. "I'm certain this road is the old King's Road. If we continue along it, it will eventually loop through the depths of Silverpine and lead us onwards to Tirisfal Glades . . . into the heart of Lordaeron itself."

Hanna shuddered. "Then, we dinnae want t'go too far ahead, Liam. That's fer certain."

Liam frowned. "But, we must find where that track will eventually emerge or lead to." He glanced back at Hanna. "From what I was told, worgen gather in dens or dark places, until the night comes."

"Well, there's plenty o' place like that in Silverpine, laddie." Hanna sighed. "We could search for days -- weeks -- before we e'en could find a sure sign--."

"Wait!" Liam had turned back around, and was now suddenly standing high in his stirrups. "Hanna, look there!" He pointed down along the road with one metal-shod fist.

Peering to where he pointed, the red-headed dwarf stiffened at what she saw. Smoke. A thin curl of gray-white, seeping above the treetops. "Aye, I see it, Laddie. A campfire, perhaps?" She paused, looking back along her left shoulder behind them. "Hmm, nearly neat-in-line wi' that track we're followin'."

At that, Liam sat down heavily in the saddle. "It's more likely a town or village. Yet, if it's in like with the direction we need to intercept . . . ?"

Hanna glanced up at Liam, seeing the expression on his face. "Laddie, I know what yer thinkin', and tha' could be risky. We could be ridin' intae a possible Forsaken holding if we go that way."

With a determined set to his jaw, Liam nodded. "Still, it is worth checking out, Hanna. Even if it is a Horde camp, we can always back-track towards our camp from there." He spurred the frostsaber again. "Up, Sabine! H'yea!"

.

oOoOo

.

Eventually, Liam and Hanna rode to a stop above a bend in the road. Below on a sloping embankment, a side road lead down and out through a cleared space of wood-cut area. In the distance, they could see the rough-cut logs and timbers of a high wall.

Behind that . . .the roofs and structures of a village could be seen against the starkness of the low, storm-cloud filled skies above.

"Well," Hanna murmured. "Doesn't look like an Undead holding."

"Yes," Liam replied. "The buildings are human-made . . . that much is certain." He nudged his 'cat, making her pad forwards along the side of the road. Looking up, he caught sight of a signpost, hammered into the ground next to a long, wooden rail fence. Gazing up at the wooden sign pointing down the side road, he read the single word carved on it: "Pyrewood . . . strange. I don't remember such a name in the old records of Lordaeron's holdings?"

"Could be a forgotten settlement, 'praps?" Hanna wrinkled her nose. "Th' old kingdom fell years ago, Liam. Yer people probably lost track o' a lot of places since then."

"Still . . . there is something odd here." Liam glanced around. "Odd, indeed."

"What?"

"Look around, Hanna. There's no sign of Horde encroachment. No physical evidence of raids or attacks." He pointed at the village and frowned. "They look as peaceful as my home village of Northshire, but this close to the Forsaken's lands, they should have watchmen, advance patrols out in force and signs of buttressing their walls for defense." He shook his head. "Any one could come in and take this place with a token force of arms!"

Hanna nodded. "Aye, I see yer point. But, what of it laddie? We're s'posed t'be lookin' fer Rhandall and Freaja."

Liam rubbed the back of his head. "Hanna, I may sound odd myself but . . . I have a feeling, that this place might hold a clue about the whereabouts of our friends." He dropped his hand to settle his weapons. "We should go in and investigate."

"Is that wise, Liam?" Hanna asked. "I'm gettin' an odd feelin' m'self. An' it's tellin' me we should be ridin' away from this place!"

Liam looked back at his companion and said, "Then, we shall pay attention to both of our . . . feelings, and keep our guards up. I trust mine, and it is telling me that we _must_ go inside there."

Shaking her head, Hanna blew out her cheeks with a sigh. "Liam, fer all that yer a human, yer 'bout as stubborn as Rhandall at times." She reached up and gripped his shoulder firmly. "But, stubborn or not, I'm wi' ye, Laddie."

Nodding with a smile, Liam turned back and let it slip away as he eyed the village of Pyrewood. "Then we shall go. Forward, Sabine . . . ."

.

oOoOo

.

Once inside the village-proper, Liam and Hanna could easily tell that all was not as it appeared from the road.

The guards had been courteous, if efficient in their task and welcome. The people that the two adventurers witnessed walking about their daily chores and duties were equally welcoming. In truth, the town did seem as ordinary as any other human settlement . . . .

Yet, there was an undercurrent of fear that flavored the very air around them.

Fear, yes. Liam though, as he nodded to a pair of women walking past. They smiled, but their gestures of welcome did not reach their eyes. These folk do fear . . . but they do not fear us. he reasoned.

Hanna nudged Liam when they stopped near a fountain that stood in the center of the main square. "Laddie, that ill feelin's gotten a lot stronger, now that I look further in on this place."

"Aye," Liam murmured. "These people are afraid. For us."

Hanna shot him a look. "Us? Why in all that's holy would they--?"

"I am not certain . . . yet." Liam glanced towards one of the larger buildings, spying a cluster of men standing in front of it; all of whom were staring at both man and dwarf with keen eyes. Eyes that reflected more fear than any of the of the townsfolk they'd encountered so far. "Hanna, stay here and keep watch."

"Where are ye goin', Liam?"

"To speak to those elders. Even as peaceful as this place appears, the presence of ravenous worgen are certain to not be missed, even by these timid souls." With that, he slipped off of his mount and strode towards the cluster of townsfolk.

Hanna sighed, then flicked her long braid aside as she shifted on Sabine's saddle. "Aye . . . but, question is, would these folk be too timid tae e'en speak of such strangeness, laddie?" Glancing around the village square, she pursed her lips as her eyes took in every dark nook and shadowed alley.

_Great Uncle Bronbor's ale mug! I cannae just sit here, like some big-breasted booby! Rhan an' Liam's lady-friend need help . . . an' unless I miss m'guess, they need it now!_ She watched Liam converse with the elders for a moment, before she took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "Calm yuirself, girl. Ye cannae lose yer head. An' now, that's yer best weapon t'figure out what t'do next." Looking down, she gripped the stock of her rifle . . . and slowly, an idea began to form inside her mind.

Lost in though, she didn't see Liam as he returned from the elders, nor the cross look on his face. "Blessed Light keep me sane," he muttered. "Those old men were as willing to speak as a stone wall!" He stepped up to the side of his mount, looking around disgustedly. "It appears we'll have our work cut out for us, my friend, since we'll find no eager help among these--!"

"Aye, yes!"

Liam nearly jumped out of his boots at the sudden exclamation from Hanna. "What?"

"It jus' might work, laddie!" She slipped off the sabercat with a grunt, looking at the paladin with eager eyes. "I just realized, I've been lookin' at this situation all wrong!"

Liam looked at her in surprise. "How so?"

"I've been tryin' t'track Rhan an' Freaja's abductors by the physical trail they left behind," Hanna explained. "Yet, I should'a been usin' my huntin' talents t'find them instead."

"Can you do that now? Here, in this village?" Liam asked.

"No better time than th' present, laddie. This place was in line wi' the track we were followin' . . . 'praps those scoundrels brought our companions here?" She turned and focused, her eyes now keen as she swept them over the buildings of the square. She was silent for several heartbeats, turning slowly in place to take in more of the town.

Staying still, Liam watched her without a word spoken . . . until his own emotions got the better of him. "Hanna?"

"Hush, Laddie." She shook her head briefly, before she continued to turn . . . before stopping with her eyes fixed on one of the lone houses in the corner of the square. "Hmph . . . got somethin'."

"What is it?"

"Lone presence . . . humanoid, but . . . not like these folk, Liam." She gripped her rifle tighter. "Might be what we're lookin' fer."

Liam pursed his lips, frowning. "Then, let us find out. Come." They stalked towards the dwelling, both well on their guard as they crossed the square and mounted the steps. Outside the doorway, Liam gripped the dwarf's shoulder, holding her back. "Cautious, my friend . . . it may be just one, but let's not underestimate the danger in front of us."

"Aye, Laddie. How do ye want t'do this?"

.

oOoOo

.

A moment later, Hanna slipped inside the doorway; her shadow stretching along the rotting wood floor with the outside light. Pausing, she aimed her weapon into the shadows, both eyes bright with anticipation as she swept the room. "No sign of 'im . . . yet. I'm goin' in." Stepping away from the entrance, Hanna slowly made her way into the main room beyond. A quick glance revealed little else around her, save some old furniture and moth-eaten rugs. Snorting softly against the musty smell, she inched her way along one side of the room.

"Okay, mister . . . whomever ye are," she muttered under her breath. "Come out an' let's see th' color o' yer fur!"

She barely got another foot further in, when a snarl -- almost gentle as it was sinister -- slipped out of the darkness above her. Whipping around, Hanna just got the muzzle of her weapon up as a large, furred hand snapped out and slapped it away. Out of reflex, Hanna reached for her axes, only to have another fist slam her backwards into the room. "Ooof!" Rolling to her side, Hanna tried to recover, only to freeze when she saw what had attacked her.

_Liam said those worgen were monsters!_ she thought. _But, I had'na counted on just HOW monstrous--!_

A sudden rumbling growl interrupted her thought, as the attacking worgen loomed into the light cast from the doorway. Broad-shouldered with muscled limbs and dark fur, it's eyes glowed red as it stalked towards the dazed dwarf.

"Ugh," Hanna grunted, trying to crab sideways towards her rifle -- laying against the foot of a row of shelves -- while keeping the worgen in front of her. "Gods, but yer one ugly cuss, eh?"

The worgen snarled. its hands spread to reveal claws as sharp as dragon's teeth.

"Ugly an' well armed." Hanna snorted. "Well, come ahead then. I ain't got much chance against ye like this!"

Seeming to agree, the black-furred beast-man crouched low, poised to spring at her . . . only to pause when it saw that Hanna's face spread into a satisfied grin.

"Liam, NOW!"

Before the beast-man could react, two armored hands clamped down on the scruff of its neck and hauled it back with aggressive force. With a yelp, the worgen slammed against the wooden wall, huffing when a plate-clad knee barreled into its exposed middle.

"Hanna, quickly!" Liam barked. He didn't give the worgen time to recover, as he clubbed the man-beast with four solid blows, before dropping it to the floor with a well-placed sweep of its legs. There wasn't much time for the worgen to recover, when Liam pinned it by the throat under his boot; pressing down hard enough to make it gasp and scrabble to keep its airway open.

Liam braced himself as he grunted against his struggles. "Hold! Fight me, and you will regret it strongly!"

The worgen clamped both massive hands around Liam's leg. "I shall _kill _you, Knnnight!"

"I think not," Liam said. "You will speak when I tell you to, and only to tell me what I wish to know!"

With a snarl, the worgen tensed up, preparing to wrench Liam's leg aside from crushing his windpipe. "Annnd, if I so chose nnnot--?" The sudden, loud ratchet of a rifle cocking cut off his rebellious query, as did the appearance of its muzzle being thrust into the beast-man's face.

"I would think twice, if'n I were ye, mongrel!" Hanna's voice brooked no compromise. "I loaded this wi' silver-laced slugs . . . an' I believe that is mair than enough t'settle yer sour disposition, Aye?"

With a low grumble, the worgen relaxed his posture and his grip.

"Now, who are -- or more to the point -- who _were_ you, beast?"

"Rrr . . . I was onnnce called Berard. Apothecary Berard," the worgen said softly, with undisguised malice in every word. "I lived, to serve my queennnn, Lady Sylvannnnnas."

Both Hanna and Liam blinked. "Sylvannas? Then, you were once--?"

"A Forsakennn? Aye, knnnight, that I was." Berard looked off to the side, heaving a huge sigh. "I was unnnder orders, to innnvestigate the unnnusual amounnnt of deaths, innn Lake Lordamere." He jerked his muzzle to the side, staring at one of the book cases behind him. "There . . . my journnnal, a recounnnt of all I had learnnned."

Leaving Hanna to keep her rifle trained on Berard, Liam stepped away cautiously, moving to the bookcase to retrieve the sole, worn leather-bound tome laying there. He opened the cover and briefly scanned it, before closing it shut as he asked, "What do you know of the other worgen in these woods, sir?"

At that, Berard slowly got to his knees, even as Hanna stepped back with her weapon aimed at his head. "Other . . . worgennn?"

"Yes. Some attacked a small party of humans, on the fringe of these woods to the south." Liam turned towards Berard with a grim expression. "Two of our companions were carried off by the survivors of that attack."

"They were brought intae this general direction," Hanna added.

A light of comprehension filled Berards face, and he began to softly chuckle.

"What's so amusing 'bout that?" Hanna nudged him in the shoulder with her rifle.

"Because, dwarf . . . your friennnds were taken to himmm!" Berard laughed, a low and cruel sound. "Yes, to the Father, that is where they most likely are. Any who are cursed, fall under the thrall of the Father!"

"Just where is this . . . Father, Sir?" Liam asked.

Berard's laughter took on a harder, darker edge. "Close by, Knnnight . . . and, unfortunnnate for you, for annny who are takennn by the Sons of Arugal . . . nnnever see annnother day of peace!" The worgen snarled, flexing his paws as he stared hard at Liam and rose slowly to a crouch.

Hanna stepped to the side, bringing her weapon to bear. "Easy now! Don' try t'do anythin' foolish!"

"Where is this Father, now?" Liam asked, his own hand dropping to the greatsword at his hip. "Tell us, so that we may go and seek him out, to rescue our friends."

Berard shook his head. "You will soonnn knnnow where he is, knnnight . . . once you have also sucummmed to the Father's curse!" With that, he growled and rose up, making to lunge at Liam with his claws and jaws prepared to strike--!

**_*bDOW!*_**

The sudden splatter of red against the far wall and ceiling of the home, along with the gaping hole in the wood that marked the passing of a bullet, followed the echo of the rifle's report.

Hanna and Liam stood grim-faced, watching as Berard's body staggered forwards for a pace . . . before it toppled, now lifeless, to the floor. Lowering her weapon, the red-haired dwarf woman snorted, then said, "Sorry, laddie. He knew what we were after--."

"No apology is needed, my friend. Had you not acted, either you or I would now be so afflicted." Liam blew out his cheeks with a sigh. "It is clear, as any are . . . infected with this curse, they become loyal to their sire to the point of never betraying his trust." Reaching out, Liam nudged the now lifeless corpse with the toe of his boot.

"Aye, but what now? We're close but nae closer t'findin' Rhan or Freaja," Hanna said.

Pursing his lips, Liam tipped his head as he thought. "What was it Berard said? The 'Father' is close by?"

"Aye, he said that much . . . but, close by what measure?"

Liam closed his eyes, then he opened them both with a start. "Wait . . . Hanna! I recall that the Mayor said this village stands in the lee of a castle."

Hanna cocked her head, then her own expression turned eager. "Aye? Summat 'bout a . . . keep, tae th' east?" Both human and dwarf stepped around the cooling body of the dead worgen, outside onto the porch of the house. They both looked east, and through the gaps between the other buildings and trees beyond . . . they spied the gray stonework of a tall tower.

"A castle-keep," Liam said softly.

Hanna nodded in agreement. "Aye, laddie . . . an' me odd-feelin's back. Only, this time 'tis tellin' me we're on th' right track, now."

"Agreed," Liam said. "Come, we'll go and seek shelter, and start out for the keep, first thing come daybreak." He started to climb down off the porch, motioning for Hanna to follow--.

"No! You can't!"

Both companions turned, just as a young woman stuck her head out from behind the corner of the house. She was a simple-looking female, dressed in commoner's clothes and skirts, but her face was filled with a fear that reached from her thin lips to her deep-blue eyes.

"We cannae what, lass?" Hanna asked, staring hard at her.

Coming further out into the open, the woman said in hushed tones, "Stay here! I . . . I overheard you talking, and, for the love of the Light, you must go. Now! Before it is too late!"

Liam asked, "Before what is too late, young lady?"

"Before daylight is gone, and the night fills the skies," the girl said quickly. "All of us who live here . . . we are as equally cursed as the worgen that you just killed!"

At that, Hanna jerked back with shock. "No . . . cursed, ye say?"

The girl nodded. "All of us, we're all victims of Arugal's dark curse! Have been for years . . . and yet, he decides to keep us alive and not call us to join his beasts, that prowl the land at his whim." She shook her head when she saw the grim look on Liam's face. "No, paladin, you cannot help us now. We are beyond any aid, but you can save yourself, before it is too late!"

Liam took the girl's hand and shook his head. "No, young one. We cannot go, not without rescuing our friends." He squeezed her hands when she started to protest. "Child, listen to me . . . our friends have been taken by worgen, and we believe they were brought this way. That . . . beast, Berard, said they may have been taken to their 'Father'. Do you know whom that may be?"

"The only 'Father' these beasts know, is the archmage who leads them," the girl said, her voice calmer but still fearful in tone. She pointed towards the castle keep they'd looked at before. "Arugal is his name, and it is Shadowfang Keep that is his home."

"Shadowfang Keep?" Hanna stared at the faint sight of the tower through the trees. "I've not heard o' such a place."

"It was once called Silverlaine Keep, so the elders say." The girl looked stricken as she cast a pleading look at them both. "You would do well to not go there, Paladin! Arugal's packs are too strong! Your friends are surely lost by now."

"Perhaps, but we must make the attempt, young one." Liam said.

"Aye, my cousin's in there, lass," Hanna said sharply. "I'll not be leavin' him in there t'die."

"You will not reconsider--?" When the looks on both Liam and Hanna's face turned grim with resolve, the girl sighed. "Very well, but you should be forewarned, my friends." She motioned quickly towards the direction of the village entrance. "Go, there is a smaller road, just off the one that leads back to King's Road. It leads to the gates of the keep, but know that there will be all manner of wolf, man-beast and worg within its walls." She shook her head. "You will not find it so easy to win your way inside to find your friends."

"Leave that matter t'us, lass." Hanna said, shouldering her rifle.

"Yes, we thank you, young one," Liam said gratefully. "We shall go now, and make our way before night comes to your village." He let out a piercing whistle, and from across the square came his sabercat mount. "Come, Hanna."

"Aye, Laddie." Together, they swung up onto the beast's saddle, settling before Liam turned the 'cat towards the front of the village.

"Just be careful, paladin!" the girl said pleadingly.

"We shall," Liam said. "If we succeed, know that if there is a way to aid your people, we shall return here, one day. Hee-yah! Onward!"With that, he put his heels in to Sabine's ribs; sending them galloping along the dirt path, leaving a wake of surprised and concerned faces as they sped out of Pyrewood . . . .

.

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	15. Chapter 15

THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES  
"The Blessed Light : Book Two"

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within -- with the exception of all original characters created by the author -- are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

-==-

Fifteen

.  
To anyone that bore witness to it . . . the towers and stone walls of Shadowfang Keep looked as hospitable as a Scourge-borne Abomination's smile.

Once a shinning example of the former kingdom of Loredaeron, this edifice is now a pale, grim shadow of its former glory. Since the incursion of the ravenous Worgen, the once-named Silverlaine Keep now harbored no safe place for anyone -- neither humans, or the undead, were welcomed inside the gray stone walls. Under the light of the moon, this haunted place cast patches of darkness that seemed alive with an aura of energy, so vile that would make even the stoutest heart pause.

Yet, it was before the gates of this cursed structure that two of the stoutest hearts of all the world found themselves; seeking to somehow gain entry inside this keep's cursed fortifications . . . .

.

oOoOo

.

Standing at the foot of a dilapidated drawbridge, Liam mac Roi looked inwards -- past the gaping hole that took up nearly all of the closed, outer doors of Shadowfang Keep. Beyond it, a portculis and metal gate barred any further access into the main courtyard of the keep-proper.

Flexing his hands around his greatsword, Liam stared hard into the misty depths beyond the gate. _I know you are there, Rhandall . . . my Lady Freaja._ he thought. _I also know the danger that surrounds you, but that will not deter me. I will come for you, and I will win you safely out of this place!_ His face wreathed with a frown that was intense and hard as iron, Liam felt with every fiber of his being the keen sense to see that promise made reality . . . . However, the truth of the situation was just as grim as the air of the land surrounding him; the keep was not so easily surmounted, nor as easily entered as it would appear.

Riding out from Pyrewood Village, Liam and his companion had taken the road the villager had spoken of; riding up to the edge of a divided escarpment. On the other side, the keep stood like a lifeless derelict . . . at least it appeared that way. When they attempted to gain entry, he and Hanna quickly learned that the one passageway they found was guarded well by worgs and worgen minions; too quick and savage for just the pair of them to tackle alone.

Repulsed, they retreated back to the escarpment . . . and discovered that the worgen did not pursue them, much to their surprise. Now, needing to find another way in, Liam sent Hanna to scout the walls to find such an egress.

"If there is a way in -- one that will bypass the creatures left to guard the main gateway," Liam said, "we must find it, and fast."

"Ah don' know, Laddie," Hanna had said, looking grumpy as she eyed the keep. "Bad as this place looks, there may not be another way in." Yet, she still hefted her rifle and made her way down the steep escarpment to reach the other side.

That had been an hour ago, and now as Liam stood watch in front of the gates, he heard the sound of the female dwarf approaching from a short distance down the roadway -- having come up the embankment from below, after emerging from the trees and scrub.

"Hanna? What did you find?" Liam asked, his mustached face dipping with a frown.

Huffing, Hanna rolled to a stop, propping herself on her weapon after she planted the butt of the rifle on the ground with a loud smack. "Laddie, I dinnae know what t'tell ye first," Hanna said, blowing out her cheeks with a heavy sigh. "I've scouted far near 'round th' whole place. There's nae much t'go with out here . . . no cracks in th' walls, no collapsed segment or breech, nothin'!"

Liam scowled. "Blast it."

"Sorry, Liam. 'Tis certain it 'pears th' only way inside is yon gates, nothin' else."

Liam turned and faced the gates again; the dark look on his face making him appear less friendly and more dangerous than his friend had ever seen him before.

"'Tis frustraitin', I know." Hanna slapped the side of her thigh as she looked up at her human companion. "One o' th' few places in all o' Azeroth nae one person should ever go--."

"And yet, it is the one place that we must go," Liam said softly; his voice tight and tense with emotion. "There's too many worgs and worgen for even a warrior of my skills can handle . . . damn it!" He started to stalk back and forth between the stone walls that framed the approach.

"Aye, between th' two o' us, we'd no more stand a chance inside, as would a snowflake survivin' inside th' Great Forge," Hanna agreed. "Th' worst o' it, is we cannae e'en go back t'friendly lands, an' get aid. A few more good hands would make this task a whole lot easier."

Liam turned and started to speak, but a voice hissed from somewhere between the human and dwarf, saying, "If it is a matter of numbers . . . then, perhaps I might offer a suggestion?"

At that, Hanna had her rifle up and at the ready. "Who said that!?"

Liam turned, his eyes flashing as he swept the air around him . . . before coming to a stop as his face twisted up into a grimace. "Reveal yourself, before you speak of this . . . suggestion, sir."

Before their eyes, the air shimmered as a figure melted into visibility; a hunched over, decayed-looking shape of a body. From the look of it, it had clearly been a living humanoid once, but was now the rotting presence of a leather-clad corpse; complete with dirty-blond hair and the pointed ears of an elf.

"Ach! A Forsaken!" Hanna spat. She ratcheted a round in her weapon, only to stop when two more undead people appeared out of thin air; swords and knives at the ready and pointed at her unguarded flanks.

"Hanna, hold!" Liam commanded. He didn't go for his weapons, but he did not shrink back when a two more Forsaken boiled out of the woods and moved to flank him.

"What!?" Hanna nearly dropped her rifle in surprise, but she recovered in time to put up a defensive stance against the newly-arrived undead.

"Think, Hanna," Liam said firmly. "If they had meant us any true harm, they could have done so long before now." He glanced at the party of Forsaken in turn, before he faced the undead elf and asked, "Isn't that so, sir?"

The Forsaken rogue bowed stiffly, waving a bony hand in an ancient, courtly manner. "Truth enough, paladin. Forgive us for surprising you in this manner . . . but I am surprised to find the . . . living, standing before the gates of Shadowfang Keep." He looked up at Liam with a guarded look.

"'Tis non o' yer concern!" Hanna said crossly, glaring at the rotting faces of the rogues facing her.

"My friend, do calm down," Liam said, raising his hands from his sword. "We are not hear to fight any who are not our enemies."

"Liam!?" Hanna twitched, but she kept her place when she saw the Forsaken weren't about to attack.

Seeing Liam's actions, the elf nodded slowly. "You are well and wise, to hold your arms, paladin. At least, until you hear what I have to offer you and your . . . companion."

Liam nodded to the undead. "Speak, then, Sire--?"

"I am Veratos," the rogue said plainly. "Formerly in service to Prince Kael'thas, now a servant of my Dark Lady." He motioned to his brethren, and they all stepped back, but kept their weapons at the ready.

"Wonderful! As if this wasn't gonna get much worse--!" Hanna snarled at the two rogues flanking her.

"Hanna, be still!" Liam looked down at the undead elf. "What do you design to do with us, Sir?"

"Perhaps, nothing, knight . . . then again, perhaps something other than taking your lives, if we can come to an understanding, hm?"

"Such as?" Liam asked.

"Allow me to explain. I have been charged by Sylvannas, to seek the source of the accursed corruption of the worgen in these woods." Veratos motioned to the land around them. "For too long, they have harassed our people and hindered our efforts to make this place a holding for all Forsaken. To that end, we have searched and traveled far over Silverpine, to learn what we could of the curse and its origin.

"In doing so, we have learned that a human archmage, Arugal, is the one responsible for the vile beasts that call this keep their home . . . and is the one who commands them from within and without, to do his bidding."

Liam nodded. "If that is so, then--?"

"Then, perhaps we both have goals that are mutually . . . supportive of one another, knight?" Veratos crossed his arms, shifting a bit, before he nodded to Liam. "I and my fellows were scouting the keep, when we heard you and your companion speaking of gaining entry to Shadowfang to rescue some . . . friends, who have been taken by Arugal's worgen."

Hanna said, "Aye, what of it then?"

"It is clear that you are too small in number to wage a full raid upon the keep," Veratos said. "Yet, myself and my fellow Forsaken have the numbers . . . but, we lack a key element to insure the success of our charge."

Liam nodded. "Yes . . . and that would be?"

One of the undead warriors spoke up to say, "We've no healers, human."

Veratos nodded. "Indeed. A healer would be most welcome, but we have been unable to acquire one prior to our arrival." Turning to look at both Hanna and Liam in turn, he said, "Granted, you are members of the accursed Alliance . . . yet, for what we must accomplish, my Dark Lady has specified that we must achieve success 'by any means necessary."

Liam arched his eyebrows in surprise. "You wish to have me act as your healer, while you assault the keep?"

"Indeed." Veratos said. "Call it . . . an alliance of convenience, knight. Provide us with your healing ability, so we may find and destroy this Arugal. In return, we will lend you our strength of numbers, so you may rescue your friends." Veratos cocked his head. "Provided, they still live, of course."

"Why ye black-hearted devil--!" Hanna started to bristle, but a quelling look from Liam kept her in check.

"Let me speak, Hanna." Liam leveled his gaze at the undead elf. "If . . . and If we do agree to this, Veratos, do I have your word -- upon the completion of both our goals -- that my friends and I will be allows to continue on our way?" Liam asked firmly. "I have given my word to see one of our friends, safely returned to her people. That is all i wish to do. Once this . . . enterprise between ourselves is done."

"A, rather, agreeable goal." Veratos looked at his fellows briefly, before he nodded. "Yes, knight. That is permissible. When Arugal is dead, and your friends saved, you shall be permitted leave." He stepped closer to Liam, offering his rotting hand. "Do we have an accord, hm?"

Before Liam could speak, Hanna asked, "Laddie . . . are ye sure 'bout this?" She eyed the Forsaken darkly; showing clear mistrust.

Liam shook his head, but his face was filled with resolve. "We have no choice, my friend . . . and Rhandall and Freaja have no chance without us." He looked down at Veratos and took his bony hand in a firm handshake. "We have an accord, Sir."

With a gruesome grin, the undead rogue nodded and turned to his fellows. "Warriors, we go forth into Shadowfang with these . . . good folk. They are allies, for the time being. Do remember that, when the battle is heavy upon us, aye?"

All the Forsaken nodded, murmuring their agreement.

"Wait here, good knight," Veratos said, motioning to the other two rogues. "We will scout the front of the keep, in preparation for our raid within." He bowed to Liam, before saying sharply over his shoulder, "Garth! Dumas! Come with me! Sorvan and Kell, stay with the paladin and his friend. We shall return shortly."

As the trio of rogues made their way across the drawbridge towards the main gate, Hanna moved to stand next to Liam. "Laddie," she said under her breath, "I dinnae like this little . . . arrangement, here."

"Neither do I, Hanna." Liam admitted softly. "Still . . .what choice do we have? We must get to our friends, before it is too late."

.

oOoOo

_._

Inside the walls of Shadowfang Keep . . . .

"Oof!" Landing hard on his knees in the middle of the passage way, Rhandall shook his head while laboring to catch the breath robbed from his lungs . . . the result of a clawed fist driven deep into his belly. With a groan, Rhandall slumped to the floor, holding his middle as he tried to draw air into his lungs.

A spate of wicked laughter flowed from the jaws of Nandos, master of the packs that roamed the cursed halls of Shadowfang Keep. "Not so spry nnnow, are you, Rounnnd-Belly?" His muzzle split with a toothy grin as he stared down at the downed dwarf. "Annnd you were so certainnn you could stannnd up for yourself . . . but nnno onnne cannnn! Nnnot againnnst the Sonnns of Arugal!"

Dazed, the dwarf whirled on his knees to face the looming worgen standing over him. "Uugh . . . c'mon then, ya blasted fuzzball," he groaned. "Is that . . . th' best ye . . . flea-bitten Sons . . . can do?"

Standing in the middle of the stone passage, the dark shape of the massive worgen shook with slow laughter. "Still possessinnng that rebellious tonnngue, dwarf?" In two strides, he was within arms-reach of Rhandall, rearing back to smote him across his face with one hand. "We still have meannns to teach you how to lose it!"

This time, Rhandall rolled away and quickly got his feet back under himself; scowling blackly at Nandos as he balled his thick fingers into fists. "Bah! I'll show ye a lesson, ya black-nosed mongrel!" He started to make a charge towards the worgen chief, intent on clobbering him--.

"Rhandall, don't!"

Startled, Rhandall looked to the side, where another worgen was holding the bound arms of Freaja; the blood elf woman looking at him with unchecked fear, as she tried to keep distance between her guard and her body.

"Don't! You'll gain nothing by fighting them like this!" Freaja said.

With a snarl, Nandos fixed Freaja with a steady gaze. "You would do well to listennn to your compannnion, dwarf," he said, undisguised menace dripping from his every word. "While our Father has ordered you brought to him alive, he did nnnot say that you had to be . . . unnnspoiled!"

Surprising both Freaja and himself, Rhandall said, "You touch that lass, monster, an' I'll not be th' only one appearin' before yer so-called 'Father' unspoiled!"

Nandos growled, making to step towards the red-bearded dwarf with his claws out.

"No! Do not harm him!" Freaja cried. When Nandos turned towards her, she said quickly, "Please, he will not cause you any more trouble. I give you my word!"

With a curl of his lip, Nandos turned and moved in close to Freaja -- the Sin'dorei finding herself unable to retreat because of the worgen holding her. "Why should he obey you, elf!?"

Swallowing past the knot of fear in her chest, Freaja didn't shift her eyes from the glowing orbs of the wolf-man as she said, "Because . . . he swore to protect me until we returned to our friends. He has to obey me." She glanced at Rhandall, silently willing her thoughts to the dwarven hunter. _Please! Follow my lead, or we may both be dead!_

Rhandall tensed, then he willfully relaxed his defensive posture. "Aye . . . as you will, lass. I'll go along wi' yer . . . command." He eyed Nandos and his guard blackly. "Fer now."

Nandos turned and glared at Rhandall. "Is that so, dwarf?" Snorting, he turned and jerked his head at the guard holding Freaja. "Brinnng them. Father awaits their presennnse, nnnow!"

As the worgen began herding them both forwards, Rhandall and Freaja both shared a private look between themselves. _Aye, lass._ Rhandall thought. _We're in it, right up tae th' tips o' yer pointy ears, an' we don' know if Liam an' Hanna e'en know where we are!_ Staggering forwards several steps after Nandos shoved him in the back, Rhandall scowled, before his face formed a guarded look of resolve. _Nae matter, M'lad . . . Liam would do all he could, t'protect th' lass an' find a way t'escape these beasts!_

When Freaja whimpered, as her guard wrenched her arm painfully against her back, the dwarf growled low in his chest. _Yet . . . Liam's not here, an' this won't end well fer th' lass, unless someone stands up fer her._

"Quiet, Dwarf!" Nandos snarled, cuffing him sharply. "Move onnn!"

Glaring back at the worgen leader, Rhandall held his tongue. _She may be Horde, but she doesn't deserve whate'er fate these monsters have in store! Liam gave his word t'her. An' by my Uncle Bronbor's Mug, I'll see that she's alive fer him t'keep that word . . . wi' every breath left in m'body!_

.

oOoOo

.

There was a soft yelp, followed by a pair of _thuds!_, as two worgs landed in lifeless heaps on the landing above a tight set of stairs leading down. Hidden under their stealthiness spells, Garth and Dumas -- the other two rogues attached to Varatos' group -- paused to listen if the sounds had attracted attention. When no more worg or worgen moved into view, Dumas de-stealthed and motioned to the far doorway across the room.

"Come!" The leader of the Forsaken motioned to Liam and Hanna, and they all came silently out onto the landing. Crouching behind Garth, Varatos wordlessly nodded to his lead rogue, who made several hand-gestures in reply. Liam -- having learned to follow battle-signals used by soldiers to communicate silently among themselves -- easily followed what the rogue had said: _Prison cells. Three. Two occupied. One guard . . . BIG guard!_

Varatos nodded, before he slipped back to speak softly to both paladin and dwarf: "One guard below . . . hunter. Can you hit them from here?"

Hanna looked up, eying the wooden railing that lined the edge of the landing. "Jus' give me a clear line o' sight." she muttered, loading some fresh rounds into her rifle silently.

Varatos nodded, then looked to Liam. "My warriors and you . . . the stair. Attack when we do." He glanced to his fellows, getting nods before he slipped back to the edge of the railing along with Hanna. As quietly as she could, she primed her rifle and side-stepped to peer down over the edge.

Liam prepared his greatsword, as well as his healing prayers as he crowded in behind the two undead warriors at the head of the stair. Glancing down, he could hear the heavy breath and the claw-footed tread of a large being prowling below. Slipping aside further, he finally caught sight of a black-furred worgen; tall, brooding and grim, stalking back and forth in front of several barred cells.

_This brute will not go down easily!_ Liam thought to himself. Grimly, he gripped his greatsword, looking to where Varatos was peering down from his vantage point. Both rogues and Veratos were unlimbering bows; adding them to Hanna's rifle as they slowly rose and leaned over the edge of the railing. With slow, careful precision they took aim at the guard--.

"Huuugh?" Jerking its head up sharply, the worgen cast its eyes on the foursome above, snarling deeply as it quickly backed up against the far wall of the narrow pit below. "Innntruders! You dare attack Rethigorrrrre?"

"Fire!" Varatos shouted, letting fly with his weapon.

Hanna jerked her trigger, sending a silver-coated slug racing down towards Rethigore, along with the trio of arrows fired by the Forsaken. Two missed, but one and her bullet struck home, causing the worgen guard to stutter-step sideways.

"Attack, now!"

Boiling down the stairs, Sorvan and Kell swelled with rage; charging with swords and shields at the ready. Liam was at their heels, preparing his own holy prayer-spells to add to their attack.

Rethilgore spun about, claws and fangs at the ready to meet them as he snarled a challenge at the undead. As one swept in to slash, he ducked under the blow and savagely raked them across the chest. He then turned and slammed the second backwards; his massive hand and arm driving the second warrior's shield into their body, denting it through sheer force of his inhuman strength.

Reloading above, Varatos said, "Do not let up on him! We must not let him get free to alert others inside the keep!" He fired his bow again, this time scoring a hit as the long shaft pierced the worgen's leg.

Growling with pain, Rethilgore snarled and turned back towards the landing overhead. With a howl, his right hand became wreathed with crackling energies that burst towards one of Varatos' warriors when he thrust it out in front of his body. Kell recoiled, but instead of retaliating he stood there as if stupefied.

"Ware! This worgen knows attacking spells!"

"So do I!" Liam dropped to the center of the cell bay, gathering himself as he cast a prayer-spell of his own "Consecration!" A rolling wave of power boiled across the narrow space, slamming into Rethilgore with vindictive force.

With a bark of pain, the worgen turned towards Liam with claws out to slash, but they did little but make a ringing sound as they clashed against the paladin's plate armor. The paladin countered, slashing back with his greatsword to drive the beast-man backwards, where the second undead warrior attacked from behind with a fury of hacking blows. Rethilgore shrank back from the fresh assault, only to howl with agony as Varatos and his rouges poured on their archery attacks from above.

"He's weakened, but we have to end this now!"

"Leave it t'me then!" Hanna muttered, slapping a special round into her rifle. "Liam! Draw him out!"

Nodding, Liam gave ground before the wounded worgen jailer, allowing him to follow up with a desperate flurry of slashing attacks. Unaware, the worgen tried to press Liam further back against the wall.

With a grim grin, Hanna snapped her weapon down, aiming with a rock-steady hand at the back of their foe. "Gotcha!" With a jerk, her rifle barked as a loaded, silver slug sped across the distance between her and Rethilgore. An instant later, the whole left side of the worgen's chest blew apart in a fountain of red.

Liam didn't wait to see if the wound was fatal. With a grunt, he brought his greatsword down, nearly cleaving the beast-man in two. Following up with a shove, Liam sent Rethilgore to the floor of the cell bay, before delivering a final, heart-stopping thrust that pinned him to the stones like a bug.

For several moments, there was nothing but the sound of Liam and Hanna's harsh breathing filling the air . . . then, with a grunt of satisfaction, Varatos said softly, "Well done, knight . . . dwarf. Very, well done."

Hanna merely snorted, but she did nod respectfully back.

Liam looked up from the carnage, about to open his mount to reply . . . when a husky voice spoke up from a barred cell behind him; muttering in Gutterspeak, "_Well . . . it's about time someone killed the wretch!_"

Turning, Liam stared through the bars in surprise, taking in the twisted, grumpy face of another Forsaken. "Sir Varatos," he said, calling up to the landing above. "I believe we have one of your countrymen, in here."

In moments, Varatos and his fellows were down inside the cell block, standing beside Liam at the door. "Greetings, friend," the undead elf said, motioning to one of his rogues to open the door. "You are in sore company, being held in this place, hm?"

The imprisoned Forsaken merely said, "At least someone has come to free me from this wretched cell!" As the door slid open, he stepped out and glanced around. "Where are you come from, comrade?"

Veratos quickly explained himself and his fellows -- only mentioning Liam and Hanna as an aside -- before asking, "Who might you be?"

"I am Deathstalker Adamant," the churlish undead replied, before nodding back towards a pile of bones and ragged clothing in the cell behind him. "High Executor Hadrec sent myself and my . . . former fellow Deathstalker, to gather information on this place, so that a plan could be formed to overthrow that accursed archmage, Arugal."

At that, Liam started. "Arugal?"

Adamant jerked his head to the side to glare at him. "Aye, him! The wretched human has all but ruined the forests with his blasted worgen!"

"Were you able to ascertain anything, Deathstalker?" Varatos asked.

"My companion and I tried, but the old wizard has many tricks up his sleeve!" Adamant turned and made a disparaging sound. "We were detected by a magical ward, and for our trespass I was thrown into this prison . . . my companion, Vincent, did not fare so well."

While the Deathstalker was speaking, something caught Hanna's eye in one corner of the cell bay. Moving off to investigate, she did not catch the rest of his words to Varatos.

"Arugal's worgen have been spreading further from this keep in recent weeks, or so I heard my jailer say . . . when he was willing to speak to me. I've been waiting in hopes that someone would come to free me, to warn Hadrec and Undercity." He looked hard at Varatos. "I must return to debrief him at once!"

"We can let you go, but we cannot leave this keep," Varatos said. "We are charged with the task of finding Arugal and dealing with him once and for all."

Adamant glanced at each undead in turn -- with a negligent look for both living human and dwarf -- before he nodded. "Perhaps you can try your luck against the foes in this keep. However, you will need to get past the master door. I've watched the comings and departures of these . . . beasts!" With that, he kicked the dead corpse of Rethigore. "I can pick the lock, and keep the ward from alerting the foes of your presence."

Varatos nodded. "Very well, do so, friend."

With that, the party stepped aside, allowing Adamant to make his way up from the cell block. "Come, this is the way to the courtyard." As the party followed him out, he glanced back at Liam and muttered, "You have . . . strange companions, with you, Varatos."

With a dark chuckle, the undead elf said simply, "A small matter of . . . convenience, friend."

With a shrug, Adamant turned down a side corridor. "Still . . . any of you are indeed courageous for wanting to brave the horrors, which lie beyond that door," he said, pointing a bony hand towards a heavy, iron-barred door that sat against one wall.

"For my friends, I will brave any danger to see them freed from this place," Liam said evenly.

Adamant paused in front of the door and stared at him with an arched expression. "Indeed, human . . . indeed." He shifted his attention back to the door; kneeling down to put himself at eye-level with the lock. Rotting fingers fished out a pair of metal picks from his frayed tunic, and he began poking inside the keyhole.

While he worked, Hanna quickly came up behind Liam, muttering under her breath, "Liam! Look at this!" She showed him a clearly dwarf-made rifle. "'Tis Rhandall's, I'm certain."

Liam nodded. "I see . . . so, they had been here, at one time," he said.

"Ye think they're 'praps somewhere, deeper inside this cursed keep? Still alive?"

There was a loud clunk!, followed by the creak of hinges as the door Adamant was working on opened slowly. Turning, Liam looked at the opening and said, "We will surely find out soon enough, my friend."

"There we go!" Adamant turned and made a short bow to Varatos and his party. "Good luck with Arugal, friend. I must hurry back to Hadrec now."

Nodding, Varatos said, "You have our thanks, Deathstalker. Good luck with your mission, as well." He motioned towards the way they'd come. "The entrance to the keep is clear, for the moment." As the Deathstalker slipped past them to head out, Varatos turned to the others and said, "Prepare yourselves. We go as soon as all are ready."

As the Forsaken prepared their weapons and cast quick-mending spells on their injuries, Liam stepped aside to take a fortifying brace from a mana potion before seeing to Hanna's own wounds. "Are you ready, Hanna?"

Looking up at him as he wrapped a bandage around her arm, Hanna said with a half-smirk, "Why is it ye humans always ask if yer ready, just before yer 'bout t'do somethin' either very dangerous or very stupid, laddie?"

With a half-smothered laugh, Liam said, "Call it tradition, my friend."

"In yer ear, laddie," Hanna snorted, moving her free arm to shoulder her cousin's recovered rifle. "I just hope we'll find our friends before this whole affair is said an' done with."

"Have some faith," Liam said softly, even as his own face reflected a brief moment of deep worry. "Light willing, we shall save them both."

Just then, Varatos turned to address them. "Are you and your companion prepared, knight?"

Securing Hanna's bandage, Liam nodded. "As ready as we will ever be, Sir." He turned to face the doorway, drawing in a deep breath as he unlimbered his sword.

"Then we go now. From here out, things may prove to be . . . harder than anything we have yet to face."

"Jus' let's go already then," Hanna said sourly. "Ah'm ready fer anythin' these mangy dogs may have fer us!"

"Beware, Hanna . . . we may be about to step into a wolves' den of misery here," Liam said.

With a rotting, half-smile, Varatos said, "That may well be the understatement of the day, knight . . . ." Together, they approached the doorway, and peered outside.

Beyond, a length of stairs lead downwards into a wide-open courtyard. Ringed with high walls, parapets and towers, the space within the yard was dotted with a few bonfires and torches; illuminating a smattering of shapes that appeared vaguely human. Among these prowled the black shapes of growling worgs, and the taller, hunched-shouldered forms of more worgen stalking through thin banks of silver mist.

From Liam's side, Hanna hissed a soft breath. "Great Magni's Baldric!"

As if on cue, several of these beasts lifted their muzzles and pointed them towards the head of the stairs. A chorus of rumbling snarls rolled through the air.

With a soft laugh, Varatos muttered, "Aye . . . the understatement of the day, good knight." He drew his sword and dagger, making the metal screech as they cleared their scabbards. "These beasts seem to be aware of company . . . shall we not keep them wanting, my friends?"

Amid the low growls of agreement from the other Forsaken, Liam nodded and said, "Agreed." With that, he stepped out onto the stair and started to head down them . . . .

.

.

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	16. Chapter 16

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book Two"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009**

_**DISCLAIMER **: This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.  
._

Sixteen

.  
"_You shall __**suffer**__ for your trespass!"_

The specter of a gray-haired, richly-dressed human loomed over Hanna Sturmhahn, as the dwarf huntress found herself being pressed back against the edge of the long dining table by two more ethereal spirits. Grunting, Hanna had them held at bay, using her long rifle as a shield but even as immaterial as they appeared, these ghosts were clearly solid enough to pin her against the unyielding wood at her back. Leaning in close, the two ghosts hissed and sputtered with rage, while the tall figure of Baron Silverlaine pulled back to heft his staff.

"Liam! Ugh! I, could, use . . . argh! Some, help!"

It wasn't her friend who came to her aid, however.

The ghost of the former Baron of Silverlaine Keep - now Shadowfang Keep - suddenly wailed as a long blade flashed through his middle; dispersing his corporeal form into shreds of mist. In his place, one of Varatos' warriors rose up, pausing before aiming another sweeping blow at the remaining ghosts.

Watching as the blade separated the heads from their bodies, Hanna shoved the quick-vanishing spirits, before slumping to the floor of the hall with a gasp. "Sweet mercy!"

"Come, hunter!" The warrior reached down, wrapping one bone-fingered hand around her arm to haul her to her feet. "These ghosts are dealt with, but we still have worgen at our heels."

Turning, Hanna nodded a wordless thanks, before she swept her eyes over the span of the hall. Liam said it right! she thought, watching as the two rogues from Varatos' troop cut and ripped their way clear of several slavering worgs that were near a large, balustrade staircase to her right. A short distance beyond, her paladin friend, Liam, and the Forsaken leader were both putting sword and daggers into the belly of a monstrous worgen facing them.

_Yep! We've __**definitely**__ stepped into a den of wolves here!_ Hanna shook herself, then primed her rifle and fired several shots at the pack of rabid worgs forcing the undead rogues back. Amid the spray of blood and flesh, several of the shaggy beasts yelped and dropped to the floor, only to die when the rogues flashed in with their knives and swords.

She turned back to the warrior beside her. "We're nae gettin' anywhere fast like this! Did'ye find a clear way beyond this room?"

"Aye . . . there were some, obstacles, but the way is clear." The warrior said.

Just then, a gut-rending howl filled the hall. Liam and Varatos had gotten their blades black with the blood of the massive worgen, and it had finally succumbed and toppled to the floor. Staggering back, the paladin and the undead elf took a moment to collect themselves, before Liam cast a quick-healing prayer on the Foresaken leader. "Hanna?" he asked, calling out to his dwarven companion.

"I'm alright, Laddie!" Hanna said, making her way to the stairs with the warrior. "Th' way ahead's clear. We need t'move, now!"

Liam nodded. "Go. We're right behind you."

Varatos motioned to his scattered fellow-undead. "Go, we have more foes to vanquish before we reach their master!"

As the company stepped around the littered corpses, making their way up the stairs, Liam's thoughts cast out to the deeper parts of Shadowfang Keep - where, somewhere, his friend and Lady Freaja were being held prisoner.  
.

oOoOo

.  
Cowed and subdued, the pack leader Nandos had led Freaja and Rhandall past mobs of worgen and worgs, up through chambers and ruined rooms, until they were both shoved into what had clearly been one of the previous grand halls of the human occupants. Her arms bound behind her, she could do little but stumble along, prodded by Nandos' 'brothers' before being brought down a crumbling stairway into the lower part of the hall.

_Blessed Sun . . . why bring us to this place?_ Freaja took notice of several other worgen - their fur so black it made them all but invisible in the chamber's shadows. All that could be seen was the glittering orbs of their eyes, glowing with ill-kept rage as Nandos dragged the pair to a halt.

With a snort, Rhandall shook his red-haired head as he glanced around. "Ugh, that cell we were in looked a might more cheerful than this place."

Freaja couldn't help but agree. "It's a place where spiders would come to die," she said softly, only to shrink back when Nandos stalked past her, snarling with displeasure.

Rhandall straightened up and moved closer to the Blood Elf woman. "Steady, lass. We'll nae get much comfort, thinkin' thoughts like that."

A voice spoke from above; a low, cultured human's voice. "If there are any who feel comfort in the home of my children . . . ." The sound of footsteps echoed around the chamber, as the speaker added, "Then, they are woefully mistaken, for none that come to my home are meant to seek any, comfort."

Looking up, Rhandall and Freaja spied a tall, robed and mantled form reach the edge of a crumbling ledge. From underneath a shadowy hood, a human's bearded face looked dispassionately at them, while he gripped a lone wooden staff in his fist. "An' you must be th' local dog-catcher, I'll bet!" Rhandall ground out testily. He rocked back on his rump, as Nandos lashed at him with a backhanded slap and snarled.

"Peace, my son . . . as for who I am, dwarf, I am Arugal. The father of all whom you see within this place."

Freaja darted a look at Rhandall, before she said to Arugal, "Why have your sons captured us, Archmage? We are travelers, not your enemies."

Arugal merely snorted softly. "No one is merely a traveler in my forests, she-elf. Any who do so, must accept the fate of all who fall under the shadow of my son's pack." He looked out at the worgen, his gaze like that of a doting father. "My sons . . . they are the true masters of these woods and lands. And soon, we shall push outwards, and retake the remaining lands from any who dare lay claims upon them."

Freaja shook her head. "You cannot hope to hold any lands, especially the armies of the Forsaken."

"Aye," Rhandall said, echoing Freaja's tone. "E'en th' bloody Scourge will give yer dog-boys a fair run fer their coin-purses!"

Arugal chuckled softly. "If you refer to those afflicted corpses who occupy Loredaeron's former seat, then you are wrong, she-elf. Even those misbegotten undead cannot stand against the worgen's gift." He gestured with his hands, indicating the worgen - who rose and growled eagerly. "My sons are more deadly than any creature that roams these woods. And even so, they are than capable of dealing with the accursed Scourge and their disease-borne filth."

Rhandall growled, getting back to his knees. "Well, yer not gonna find th' Alliance as easy t'conquer either, mage! The people o' Stormwind-!"

"Will fall as easily as any, cur!" Arugal snapped, cutting Rhandall off to the quick. "My sons carry a means to subjugate the living, as virulent as the plague that the Scourge used to sack the once-proud lands of Tirisfal." He glared at Rhandall. "When they go forth, they will bolster their numbers from all who are . . . touched by their gift, and we will sweep aside all who dare to resist them."

Rhandall bristled. "Yer as mad as a hare in th' moonlight!"

"Perhaps, you would believe otherwise . . . after you are shown the way?" He smiled darkly. "After all, your kind should prove to be just as susceptible to the gift of my children." Nodding towards one single worgen, he said, "That one . . . his name was once, Durgis Stoutfist. A dwarf of the high-reaches of Aerie Peak."

Rhandall sucked in a breath. "Bastard! I knew of that family!" He bristled, even as he kept his place under the snarling eyes of the worgen. "We though Durgis lost-!" He glared at Arugal.

"Yet, that is for another time . . . I have other matters to see to. "Arugal made a dismissive gesture. "Nandos, return them to the holding cells. I will prepare to have them serve, in due time."

As the worgen started to move towards them, Rhandall bolted to his feet and stepped in front of Freaja. "What matters if ye harm us now or later, ye black-hearted scum? At least give me a good axe an' three paces t'prepare meself, before you sic yer dogs on us!"

Freaja flinched, her face turning pale as moonlight on water. _Great Sun, he'll doom us both with his temper!_

If she felt Rhandall's temper was a danger, the dark and sudden upswelling of black power seething around Arugal made it seem tame by comparison. Turning sharply, the arch mage glared at the dwarf; his anger infecting the worgen nearby, stirring them up to sudden, frothing rage. "I have changed my mind," he said. "Do not return these . . . to their cells. I will deal with them, here and now."

At once, the bindings holding Rhandall's hands together split apart with a crack. Shrugging them off, he growled, "Ye won't take me down so easily as yer sons did before."

"You will not last any longer than those cowardly remnants of the Kirin Tor," Arugal said darkly. He took three steps towards them, his hands emerging from his robes, curling into claws as he summoned a single flash of arcane light.

Rhandall glared at Arugal. _Focus on me, ye bastard. I can give th' elf that much more time, in any case! _"Do yer worst, spell-slinger!"

Dark lightning began to crackle around the archmage's fingertips. "If you desire to face your destiny now, then you shall have your wish, dwarf!" Arugal slid his eyes over to Freaja. "As for her, her moldering remains will serve, as a testament to what happens when one is foolish-!" The sudden, thundering howl of a wolf burst through the air the sound vibrating through the very stones of the chamber.

Startled, nearly every worgen spun about to face towards the sound. Every muzzle peeled back in a snarl, hackles spiked high as they ducked their heads in a spate of fear.

Arugal himself looked towards the entrance of the room in alarm. Before the last echoes of the howl had died, Arugal had turned and gestured sharply to the worgen below him. "Nandos! Take your brothers and go! Someone has breached Fenrus' chamber!" Raising one hand, Arugal was wreathed in a corona of light before he vanished completely.

Nandos snarled, then turned and motioned to his fellows. "Go! Runnn, nnnow!" Together, the entire pack bolted for the entrance and disappeared from view - save for a few that remained clustered on the floor of the archmage's chamber.

Freaja felt her own heart beating at triple-pace, her body vibrating from the very sensation of that sound - felt from her boot-tips to the crown of her head. She nearly stumbled into Rhandall while trying to back away from the remaining worgen. "What do you think that was, that we just heard!"

Rhandall tried to sound non-chalant for her sake, but his own soul was shivering inside his body. "I cannae be certain, lass." He stared at the remaining Sons, seeing their own state of agitation. "But, whate'er it was, it's got all o' these beasties quakin' in their paw-prints, too."

Suddenly, another gut-wrenching howl - this one filled with pain instead of rage - cut through the air, and quickly fell into silence.

Turning pale under his beard, the dwarf muttered, "Lass, let's hope fer both o' our souls that we dinnae find out just WHAT caused it to do that!"  
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oOoOo

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The massive body of the wolf named Fenrus topped to the floor of the chamber; its muzzle left open in a rictus snarl of final defiance as a final breath escaped from its lungs.

Standing around it, Veratos' Forsaken fighters slowly lowered their weapons before they turned to their leader. "We did it!"

"Good work, my brethren," the undead elf said. He looked to where Liam and Hanna were standing in the doorway to the round chamber. "And you, paladin. You and your companion were most beneficial."

Hanna snorted, blowing across the open, smoking breach of her rifle. "Aye, well an' all, but yon beastie 'twas nearly the death o' us all." She grimaced at the stench of cordite, mixed in with the lingering smell of worgen and wolves's blood that clung to them all. "Are ye all right, Liam?"

Panting, Liam nodded as he knelt to the stones of the floor. "A moment, my friend . . . I'm nearly exhausted my . . . I must, replenish mana." He removed a capped vial from a pouch at his waist, popping it open to quickly drink the restorative blue liquid inside.

"Aye, we're pushin' things a wee bit." She glanced at Veratos. "Shouldn't we give it a short moment, t're-coup before pressin' on?"

Veratos shook his grey-skinned face. "No, hunter, we must press on. We are clearly close to Arugal's inner sanctums, otherwise we would not have met such a creature as this. Only such beasts would be within the realm of this accursed bastion as his strongest defenses."

As if to lend proof to the undead elf's words, A sudden burst of displaced air erupted on a walkway high above their heads. Undead, human and dwarf faces lifted towards the source, just in time to see the shadows slip back to reveal a robed figure; looming with a face filled with a fierce expression, staring down at them with contempt. "Who dares interfere with the Sons of Arugal?"

Varatos scowled. "We who serve the Foresaken, archmage," he said. "We come to end the affliction spread by the foul beasts that serve you!"

Arugal snorted. "You believe that you can best me, accursed fool?" He gestured, with one hand raised towards the ceiling. "Come, find me. If you survive." With that, he vanished amid another flash of light and displaced air.

"'If you survive? What th' devil did he mean by that?" Hanna asked. "Th' bloody-!"

"He must mean there are more of his defenders about," Varatos said quickly. "Otherwise, he would not have been so quick to dismiss us as a threat."

As if waiting for Varatos' words, the shadows behind the Foresaken surged outwards; forming into a quartet of hunched, floating forms that reached out towards them with clawed hands; hissing with hatred.

"Sire!" One of the rogues dodged, but one of Varatos' warriors was smashed to the floor of the chamber by one of the dark creatures.

"Voidwalkerssss!" Veratos whirled and lashed out at the nearest one with his sword. "Warriors, defend yourselves!"

Hanna grabbed onto Liam's arm, urging him back to his feet. "Looks like no rest fer th' weary!" She reached for her own weapons, but stopped when Veratos' shouted at her across the chamber:

"No! Leave these to me and my warriors!"

"We can face them together," Liam said.

"No, Arugal knows we are at his door, so he might find his way to escape!" The undead elf hacked away at another voidwalker, driving it back into the reach of the rogue named Garth; who skewered it with his dagger and sword. Turning back to the pair, Varatos said, "Go, find Argual quickly! He may have your friends with him!"

Liam nodded once, before nudging his companion towards the open doorway. "Come, Hanna, he's right!"

"But, wha' about them?" Hanna protested, even as she let herself be goaded towards the doorway beneath the walkway.

"Varatos and his men can handle themselves," Liam said firmly. "Hurry! We cannot waste time!" Casting one last look back at the Foresaken - all of whom were embroiled in combating the remaining demons - Liam frowned then urged his companion on out of the chamber.  
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oOoOo

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A short distance up several stairs, and the two of them found themselves at the doorway of a larger, vaulted chamber that was filled with piles of straw, loose stones and an air that reeked of canines and filth.

"Phagh! I'll definitely become a cat-lover, after this is all over with," Hanna muttered. She started to take a step into the chamber, when Liam clamped one armored hand over her shoulder.

"Hanna, hold fast," Liam said. Nodding, the paladin pointed with his eyes towards the back of the chamber.

There, rising from hiding places behind the straw piles and stones, a motley pack of wolves and worgs appeared. Snarling softly, they spread out and began to stalk towards the two intruders.

Hanna shrugged. "Just more doggies, laddie . . . an' nothin' I cannae handle." She quickly lifted her rifle to he shoulder and took aim, before jerking the trigger in rapid succession. Bullets raced down the length of the chamber, piercing through flesh and fur with grisly results. Amid yelps and yarps of pain, the wolf pack stumbled and toppled to a skidding halt in the straw before the pair.

Looking up through the pall of gun smoke, Hanna chuckled and shot Liam a look. "See? No problem."

Liam wasn't smiling. "Perhaps . . . you spoke too soon."

Hanna frowned, just as a menacing growl made her look back towards the other end of the chamber.

There, framed in the doorway, the Pack Master of Shadowfang Keep and several worgen glared at them both. Nandos stared briefly at the scattered bodies of the wolves and worgs, before lifting his muzzle towards the pair; his eyes filled with ill-concealed hate.

"Oooh, mice!" Hanna muttered.

"I cannn't believe it! You've destroyed my pack... Nnnow face my wrath!" Growling, Nandos charged towards the hunter and paladin, his brethren hot on his heels.

Liam pushed Hanna back, bracing with his long sword out, before he gestured upwards with one fist. "Consecration!" As the rolling wave of holy power radiated outwards, Liam pointed one hand at Nandos, while he said, "Judgment comes for you, beast!" Even as the spell was cast - and a glowing hammer slammed into the Pack Master from the side - Liam whipped to the side to let one worgen sail past his body and swung a blow with his weapon that chopped a second one nearly in two.

Knocked aside, Nandos tumbled into a straw pile with a bark of pain. The worgen that lunged and missed Liam skidded around, ending up with its face towards Liam's unguarded back. With a snarl, it coiled itself to pounce, but a triple burst of hot silver iron slugs tore into its exposed flank.

Hanna tried to reload on the fly, calling to her friend in warning, "Liam! Watch yerself!" She shouldered her rifle and fired once more, finishing off the wounded worgen with a head-shot.

Liam was already moving, having dispatched another worgen with a sweeping strike that disembowelled it, before turning back to face Nandos. The silver-furred beast was slavering with rage, as it lurched towards the paladin, only to be met by several hundred pounds of plate-armored man at full charge. The collision of bodies ended up with Nandos knocked back from a knee in his gut. Huffing, the worgen lashed out, connecting with Liam's chest plate to leave five, long gashes in the metal surface.

Unperturbed, Liam made a fist and boxed Nandos smartly across his snout; making blood and a few pieces of teeth fly away. Dazed, the pack-master was unprepared, as Liam reversed his sword and plunged it deep into Nandos; exposed chest.

With a growl that trailed off into a last gasp, Nandos died as he slid to the floor of his own lair; his blood soaking through the layer of cast-off fur and straw beneath him.

Liam sucked in a chest-full of air, before he surveyed the scattered dead and turned back to Hanna. "Are you . . . all right?"

Hanna nodded. "Aye. You?"

Liam gave her a half-smile. "Ask me that, after we find a inn and a good pint of beer . . . later."

Shaking her head, she merely said, "As Rhandall would say-." She stopped and frowned. "Rhandall!"

Liam's own mirth disappeared. "Come on. We've got to find them." Liam turned back to the doorway that Nandos and his pack had emerged from, preparing to charge right on through.

Only the slap of Hanna's hand against his arm stopped him. "Wait, laddie, we snould'nae go in there at half-cock now. We dinnae know fer certain Rhan and Freaja are in there."

Liam flexed his hand around the hilt of his sword. "There's very little chance they are anywhere else, Hanna," he said firmly. Stepping away, he appeared to coil in on himself, before he aimed one metal-shot foot at the center of the half-open door . . . .  
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oOoOo

/  
In the pit, Freaja kept her eyes fixed on the platform overhead; her body trembling as her keen sense of hearing could pick up the faint sounds of battle in the room beyond.

Beside her, Rhandall kept his own eyes locked on the three remaining Sons, who were prowling around the floor in a clearly agitated state. "Sommat's not right, that's fer certain. Ever since we heard yon beastie, there's been nothin' stirrin' 'round here."

Freaja shook her head, not looking back at the bound dwarf once. "No . . . something is happening," she said. "There's something attacking Arugal's worgen." She paused, tipping her head a bit and shuddering. "It is coming this way!"

"What, here?" Rhandall looked around the pit. "We'll be like fish in a beer-barrel, if that somethin' attacks these critters here!"

At that moment, all three of the worgen guarding them whirled to point towards the platform above. Each beast had their hackles up, snarling menacingly.

_Blessed Sun!_ Freaja thought. _What is attacking the archmage's beasts, to make them so enraged!_

Rhandall shuffled sideways until he was next to the Sin'dorei woman. "Lass, I hate t'say it, but we may best prepare fer th' worst." When she looked at him briefly, he placed one hand on her arm and added, "I promised Liam I'd do what I could t'protect ye. Mind, yer still a Hordie, but . . . I'm, sorry I could'nae do more."

Freaja started to reply, when there was a crash from overhead. Looking up in alarm, she caught sight of the wooden door of the chamber sailing over the edge of he platform. As the trio of worgen scattered, it crashed into the stone floor with a cloud of dust and cobwebs.

_What now!_ Freaja asked herself, steeling both body and soul for the worst.

"_Laddie? Wha' d'ye see-?"_

It was to both her utter shock and - to an extent - relief, when she saw the form of Liam mac Roi surge to the edge of the overhead platform and come to a stop. As Rhandall's red-haired cousin appeared right on his heels, he glanced about, before looking down into the pit . . . and then his eyes locked on hers; growing wide as dark-blue sapphires.

It was all she could do to muster up a single, whispered word; "Knight?"

Rhandall's beard practically split in a relieved-yet-scolding grin. "Liam! 'Tis 'bout time ye showed up, Lad!"

Hanna was quick to reply, "Oh, d'ya think we were prancin' threw steelblossom fields t'get here!"

Freaja met Liam's hard stare a moment longer, before he flicked his eyes to the side to take in the trio of snarling worgen standing between him and the two bound captives. "Hanna," he said, "cover me!" With that, he leapt over the edge of the platform and sailed down to the floor of the pit. Landing on flexed legs, he bounded once with a clank!, before springing towards the closest worgen with his sword pulled back and one fist outstretched towards it.

_No!_ Freaja railed at the thought of him just plunging into battle like that; without plan or concern. Cringing, she tried to get her feet under herself to prepare for the worst. The worgen were more than ready to do their worst. Claws out, fangs bared and hackles up, the trio of hulking, dark-furred beasts moved to strike at the armored man.

Yet, Liam met them unflinchingly; his fist opening wide as a golden hammer of light sailed down from on high. It smashed into the first worgen like a thunderbolt, catching it in mid-leap, sending the beast-man sailing back towards the far wall of the pit. With the second worgen sweeping in from the right, Liam planted his near-foot and pivoted, letting the second one sail past. Unable to check its charge, this beast got a long, vicious swipe from Liam's sword along its flank. Howling in pain, the beast tried to turn to land a counter-strike, only to get a metal-clad fist in its snout. With a crunch of bone and a whimper, the beast folded and collapsed to the floor.

The third worgen appeared to realize this wasn't going to be an easy kill. Hesitating, it looked over to where Freaja and Rhandall were standing.

Turning, Liam glared at the last worgen, hefting his long sword as he said, "You shall not touch them, beast!"

The worgen's resolve snapped. Turning nearly double on itself, it quickly locked eyes with Freaja. With a growl, it bolted towards her with the promise of malice in its gleaming red eyes. Liam was just a heartbeat behind, charging after it.

Freaja tried not to panic, but the chilling threat of imminent death made her stumble.

Then, she felt something smack into her from the side, sending her tumbling out of the line of the worgen's charge. Rhandall! The doughty dwarf hunter was now standing in the spot where she'd just been, glaring at the oncoming beast in defiance.

However, the worgen barely made it to six steps in front of Rhandall. A trio of rifle-shots filled the air of the pit, followed by two crimson blossoms and a burst of shattered bone and brains; all of which sent the stricken worgen diving nose-first into the dirt before the dwarf's feet.

Freaja nearly stumbled to her knees in utter relief, watching the twitching body begin to become a cooling corpse. A touch at her shoulder made her start, Looking up into the concerned expression on Liam's face, she felt the desire to drop her iron facade . . . but the moment passed when he asked, "My Lady, you are not hurt? They did nothing untoward's your person?"

Freaja swallowed, then straightened herself up as she said, "I am . . . no, they did not hurt me, Knight." She was trying to shore up her former, superior air, but only halfway succeeding in the effort.

Liam nodded, realizing her pride. "Come, let us get you free." With that, he gently - if briskly - turned her around to get at the cords holding her arms together.

Hanna had come halfway down the stairs, her still-smoking rifle clasped across her chest as she looked at her companions; her face filled with a grim mask of concern. "Blast ye, Rhan! Ye got no more sense than a dumb-struck chicken, tryin' t'ward off these beasties, wi'out a weapon."

Rhandall looked down briefly at the dead worgen, before he hawked and spat on in, a moment before he glared up at his cousin. "Well, Ye could've hit 'em with all three shots, y'know!"

Hanna let go with a scoffing grunt. "Next time, I'll take my time wi' my shots then . . . cousin. An' yer welcome!"

"Bah!" Rhandall gave her one of the blackest looks Freaja had ever seen before. "Ye can earn yer thanks by showin' us the way outta this hell-hole!"

Liam had finished freeing Freaja, and was turning towards the bristling dwarf with a tolerant smirk. "If you wish to be freed, you simply needed to ask-."

A burst of black-and-green hued energy hit the ground near Liam's feet, knocking him and the other two backwards. With a shout, he tumbled to his knees before staggering forwards to put his body between the attacker and Freaja.

Freaja recovered quickly enough - braced on her hands and knees - as she peered past Liam's armored body, her face turning pale as she spied the tall form of Arugal on the far platform across the way. The archmage's bearded face was an open mask of rage. A corona of dark magic wreathed his outstretched hand, and his eyes were like dark-iron orbs as he focused on Freaja, Rhandall and their would-be rescuers.

**"You too, shall serve!"**

.  
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**-==- To Be Continued... -==-**


	17. Chapter 17

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book Two"**  
**  
**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2009**

,

**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same.

This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.

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Seventeen

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The blast of arcane energy Arugal fired barely gave Freaja's would-be rescuers time to act.

Hitting the ground, both Hanna and Randall rolled away, shielded by the ruin of a crumbling staircase while they grappled with their rifles. "Blast and scorch it! It doesn't ever end, does it?" Rhandall said.

Hanna smacked the side of her weapon to close the breach before she snapped, "Less talk, more hot iron, cousin!" She hazarded a quick look over the side of the stone stairs, ducking back when several void bolts slammed into it. "Ach!"

Peppered by bits of shattered stone, Rhandall snarled. "That does it! No mana-suckin', dog-lovin' spell-slinger is gonna get th' better o' me!" He rolled back out into the clear, landing on his belly and elbows as he brought his rifle to the ready. Squeezing the trigger rapidly, he sent several slugs of metal rocketing across the chamber.

On the platform above, Arugal stood amid the hail of bullets, unflinching as he sent more void bolts down towards the four below.

Across the way, Liam was standing with his sword out; his armored body providing cover for Freaja's kneeling form. Several blasts of Arugal's arcane power rained around them, but Liam's defensive stance blocked the few that came closest to striking him or the blood elf.

"Is this how you usually rescue all of your allies, knight?" Freaja asked, an edge of panic in her tone.

"Only when facing a crazed arch mage, Lady," Liam said. "I have to stop him, but I dare not leave you unprotected. You must hide until I can defeat him!"

Freaja got to her feet behind him. "Fine, we're trapped in a chamber with little to no cover. Where do you suggest I hide?"

Liam flicked his eyes to the side, seeing where the dwarves were holding their own amid the barrage of arcane fire. Without warning, he reached behind him and snagged Freaja by her robes. "There!" He shoved her ungently, causing her to stumble to the ground behind the dwarves to land with a indignant shriek.

"What th'-?" Hanna barely had time to reach out to drag the elf woman further into the shelter of the wall, before a renewed burst of Arugal's bolts shattered several stones above their heads.

"Hanna! Watch her!" With that said, Liam launched himself across the chamber towards the surviving stairs that lead up to where Arugal stood.

Freaja shook herself as she recovered behind cover. "Oh, that impossible human!"

"Aye," Hanna said, cocking her rifle. "He can be like that, lassie!" She leaned out and fired a shot, then grimaced. "Check yer fire, Rhan! Liam's in play!"

Her cousin stopped firing, growling. "I hear ye!" He shifted his aim, just in time to see Liam round the stairs, about to charge up to the platform where Arugal was just now pausing in his attack. "Show tha' bugger what for, Lad!"

The moment Rhandall's words echoed around the chamber, Arugal stopped his mystic barrage, stepping back a pace as he watched Liam approach. Then, Arugal made a sweeping, upwards gesture with one hand . . . and vanished from sight.

Liam nearly stumbled between one step and the next as he slowed to a halt. "Blast!" He turned and swept the room; his blue eyes blazing with indignation.

Below, both Freaja and the dwarves were equally surprised, if for a moment. "Och, that miserable mana-sucker's teleported away!" Rhandall muttered.

"Don' think so, Rhan," Hanna said, rising briefly to cast her own eyes around. "This fellow don' strike me as one t'just abandon th' fight. Not this easily."

Rhandall said, "Bah! That mage should know better than tae fight, when he's outnumbered an' out gunned!"

Freaja was about to fill his ear with an retort, when something made the hair at the back of her neck prickle. Turning with the sense of dread, she caught sight of a displaced *pop!* of air on a ledge in the rear of the chamber. No! "Knight! Behind you!" she shouted. Moving without waiting for Liam or the others to react, she shoved both dwarves away, before throwing herself to the ground as another void bolt smashed the stone wall behind them.

Whirling around, Liam barely got his guard up, parrying two bolts before a third smote the stones near his head; making him duck amid a shower of rock and dust. Recovering, he looked up, just as Arugal vanished again. With a grunt, he dropped down, putting his back to the stones as he sucked in a lung-full of air.

"Liam!" Hanna called out, having rolled away to find partial cover near the stairs that lead to the entrance. "Are ye-?"

"Stay down, Hanna!" Liam said sternly. "Keep Lady Freaja safe!"

"Aye, but wha' about th' rest o' us, laddie? We canna-!" Hanna's call was turned into a yelp of surprise, when Arugal suddenly appeared a few feet from her; his fist cocked and wreathed in sinister energy.

"Unleash your RAGE!" With that, the energy shot outwards and struck Hanna dead-center in her chest. With a cry, She staggered back, only to surge as her body was hideously warped into the shape of a snarling worgen.

With a smirk, Arugal commanded, "Attack!"

The worgen who had been Hanna turned towards Freaja, growling as she bared her teeth and claws.

Freaja shrank back against the wall, crying out, "Liam!"

Liam had seen the entire tableau. Whipping his arm out, he called out, "Judgment!", and a glowing red hammer of light arced from above to slam into the ground in between Freaja and her attacker. The shock of his attack knocked the worgen backwards; landing flat on her back. Before she could recover, the worgen suddenly howled in pain and turned back to Hanna with a sudden flash of energy.

Liam turned and started to charge towards Arugal, but once more the arch mage vanished from sight. "Rhandall!"

"Aye, laddie, I know! Down!" The dwarf fired low across the room, forcing Liam to throw himself to the ground; the bullets passing close overhead before hitting the distant wall a split second after Arugal vanished again.

From where she was hiding, Freaja slipped towards Hanna and quickly dragged her back to cover. "Are you all right, dwarf?"

Shaking her head, Hanna grumbled, "Ach, I . . . I think so, lassie. Oooch, that bastard . . . he's playin' fer keeps."

"Agreed," Freaja said, helping the dwarf woman regain her feet. Another patter of void bolts overhead made her duck. "Great Sun! This is starting to become annoying. Knight! We have to end this assault, before this arch mage bests us all!"

Liam rolled back into the lee of another shattered wall near the steps, just as more void bolts rained down around him. "Rhandall! We need a plan!"

"Fine t'say it, Laddie, but-!" Rhandall ducked his head, diving for the spot where Hanna and Freaja were hiding. "Ach! Blast it!" he shouted. "We canna defeat th' bastard, wi' us playin' hide-an'-seek like this."

_Aye,_ Liam thought. _This Arch mage uses his power too effectively. We cannot strike at him when he teleports, and his magical blasts are too strong . . . too deadly to risk Lady Freaja in a prolonged fight! _Another volley of void-bolts smashed into the temporary shelter of his wall, making him duck. _Think, man, think! You were taught by the war masters of Stormwind and Ironforge,_ he told himself. _What is needed to best battle a mage?_

The sound of one of the Cousin's rifles firing several shots rolled through the air. "Blast it! That mage moves too quick!" Rhandall roared.

"He's nearly everywhere and anywhere at once!" Freaja said.

Suddenly, a kernel of memory sparked to life in Liam's mind. Standing up, he looked around the chamber, taking note of the platforms above them. "Hanna! Rhandall! Quickly! Cover the entire parameter of the chamber! Above and below!"

"Wha'?" Rhandall asked.

Freaja was quicker to comprehend Liam's plan. "Just shoot everywhere, dwarf!"

Both dwarves glanced at each other, then both stepped into the clear and began to methodically turn in place; peppering the walls with repeated shots of rifle-fire. Forged-iron bullets pranged and ricocheted off the stones, kicking up dust and debris in a slow-growing cloud.

Liam kept his head down, watching the walls as the Cousin's slowly walked their fire across the room.

At one point, the Arch mage appeared on the walkway; a few feet from Hanna's advancing hail of fire. Arugal fired off one more bolt, before he teleported once more.

Liam's eyes whipped around to the center of the room - the only clear space not being assaulted by the dwarves - widening as he spied the signs of a mage's portal opening. Leaping down the stairs, he brought his sword up and charged towards the materializing form of Arugal. "This fight ends now, Arch mage!" he shouted.

Arugal turned, eyes wide in the face of Liam's attack. Yet he didn't falter or fall back. "Unleash your RAGE!" A burst of power radiated out from his hand, aiming to smash against Liam's chest.

Tensing, Liam realized his error. He tried to back peddle and dodge, but the range was too close,

Arugal brought his hand out to full extension, the same dark energies that had transformed Hanna were pulsing around his fingertips . . . and then, as a whipcrack of bright light fell between them, the transformation spell died.

"What!" Arugal barked, eyes wide as he looked up into Liam's face; his triumph turning to despair as the paladin knocked his hand aside with one fist, before plunging his blade into the arch mage's chest. There was a brief spasm wracking Arugal's body, before he cried out in mortal pain and wilted to the floor at Liam's feet.

Stepping back and letting out his breath with an explosive sigh, Liam stared at the still body of the arch mage. "Praise the light."

Coming out into the clear, the dwarves and Freaja moved to meet Liam in the center of the chamber. Stomping up to the corpse, Rhandall grunted and spat towards it. "An' good riddance, ye misfit mana-sucker!"

"Liam, are ye all right?" Hanna asked.

He nodded, before asking Freaja, "Are you unharmed, Lady?"

"Yes," she said. "For now." Looking up at Liam, she sighed. "You . . . you have my thanks, for saving, us."

Liam nodded, but before he could reply, a voice called out from above: "You have my thanks as well, paladin."

The foursome looked towards the upper level of the chamber. There, Varatos and his warriors stood, peering over the edge at the sight of the slain arch mage. Relaxing his bow arm, the undead elf smirked and nodded. "I see you managed to defeat Arugal," he said, moving to descend from the height. "You also rescued your friends as well?"

Liam nodded. "Yes, we did."

"Aye, no thanks t'ye and yer raggamuffin's," Hanna muttered under her breath.

When Varatos and his men reached the chamber floor, he motioned to them with a curt chop of his hand. "Take his head. We must bring proof of Arugal's demise back to our Dark Lady."

As the Forsaken warriors moved to do his command, Rhandall stepped aside and snorted. "Fine thing, this is." He shot an accusing glance at Liam. "Ye had t'ask the undead fer help, Liam?"

Freaja gave Rhandall a black look. "Fine thing for you to criticize your friend's methods, even though he DID save us, dwarf."

Rhandall looked non-plussed. "M'just sayin', that's all."

Freaja would have said more, but at that moment Varatos moved to stand in front of her. "Ah . . . an elf woman," he said softly; raking his eyes up and down her body. "Who might you be?"

She drew back a bit, but quickly gathered herself upright to stare coldly at the undead elf. "I am Freaja, of Silvermoon City."

At that, Varatos nodded and chuckled. "Ah, I see. Strange to see that one of my . . . former people are in the company of members of the Alliance."

Rhandall said, "'Tis not by our choice, ye can bet yer bones on that!"

Liam stepped towards Varatos and Freaja, moving to stand so his body partially blocked her from the Forsaken party leader. "The lady is under our protection, Sir . . . until we can return her to her rightful place among her people."

"Is this so?" Varatos asked, looking to Freaja with wide eyes. When she nodded slowly, he heaved his shoulders with a sigh. "Ah, I see. Then, while I do applaud your efforts, paladin, I fear that you and your companions have come to a rather . . . unfortunate end." With that, Varatos jerked his chin to the side. Before Liam or his friends could say or do anything, shadows emerged from behind him and Rhandall and struck with deadly accuracy. The blows that came from Varatos' stealthy rogues toppled the two men to the stones, leaving them stricken and unable to move.

"Liam! Rhandall!" Hanna moved her hand to her rifle, only to grunt when one of the Forsaken tackled her to the ground, knocking her weapon away with one swipe of his hand. "Oooh! GettoffME, ye-UGH!" Her protest died when the warrior clubbed the side of her head with one fist.

Freaja fell back in alarm, expecting to be attacked as well, but Varatos made no move towards her.

"Bind them up, quickly!" the undead elf said sharply. "We'll take their weapons and the mounts they left outside the keep."

"What!" Freaja was indignant. "You have no right to do this. They were no threat to me!" Her anger died when Varatos turned and stared at her with cold steel in his eyes.

"They are all dogs of the Alliance," Varatos said. "Though you may believe they were . . . 'protecting' you, trust me, my kinswoman, they do not have the right, nor the means to see you all the way back to Quel'thallas." He glanced at his men - who now had Liam, Rhandall and Hanna all bound and subdued, kneeling on the stone floor - and snorted. "Blasted Alliance pigs! The Dark Lady will reward us well, for capturing such fools who have come this close to our lands." He looked to Freaja again, his demeanor softening just a bit. "We will take you to the Undercity, where you may find safe passage back to your home."

"And, what of them?" Freaja asked softly.

Varatos chuckled; a dark sound echoed by his fellow Forsaken. "I believe, there are members of the Royal Apothecary Society which will welcome these scum . . . with open cages, no less!"

Freaja cheeks blanched white as the implications of Varatos' words hit home.

"Sire, it may not be possible to travel to Undercity completely," one of Varatos' undead said gravely. "Nightfall is nearly upon us, and even with Arugal's demise his packs still control the Silverpine woods in force."

Varatos nodded. "We shall have to make do. The closest encampment for the night is not far from Shadowfang . . . for it is as unsafe for us to remain within this accursed keep as it would to make the trek to Undercity."

Freaja scowled at him. "If you think I will just simply go with-!"

"You are more than welcome to remain here, Lady. However, without their master to keep them in check, I am certain the remaining worgen that remain will gladly give their thanks to you, for Arugal's death." He gave her a smug look. "Can you say with certainty that you will survive such . . . appreciation, Lady?"

Freaja's frown deepened, but she shook her head. "No."

"Then, seeing as you have little choice . . . ?" Varatos nodded to his men. "Bring them, we shall travel to the Sepulcher!" He turned back to Freaja and made a permissive gesture with one hand. "If you will permit me to escort you out, Lady?"

.

oOoOo

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._  
The Sepulcher, Silverpine Forest, Later . . ._

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Standing inside the doorway of the simple hovel which sat before the sprawling field of tombstones and grave markers, Freaja wrapped her arms around herself and stared out into the quickening, rain-soaked darkness.

"Forgive us if our . . . accommodations are not for the living," the voice of the innkeeper said, stepping softly up to the doorway to stand near the distressed Sin'dorei woman.

Freaja couldn't suppress the shudder that raced down her body, but she didn't let her discomfort show in her voice. "It shall . . . suffice, for the night, Mister Bates."

The innkeeper nodded, then looked in the direction Freaja was staring in. "Phaugh. The night is unfit for anyone . . . living or dead." His decaying face pulled down into a frown. "Still, Deathstalker Varatos made his intentions clear, Lady. I would not worry too much about those Alliance pigs."

Freaja didn't look at Innkeeper Bates, but the pallor of her face drained to a pale complexion at his words. "I do not worry. Not for them," she said at length. "I just feel that Varatos is . . . too unkind in his treatment of them." Her eyes stayed fixed on a trio of figures outside - the dwarves and Liam, all under the watch of a pair of Forsaken guards. The dwarves were locked in an iron-bar cage, but the paladin had been stripped of his armor, left on his knees with his arms shackled behind his back. A heavy chain coiled around his neck, with its ends staked to the ground.

"It is nothing more than they deserve, Lady," Innkeeper Bates said. "After all, they are prisoners of war."

Freaja signed, saying nothing more. Eventually, the innkeeper just shook his head and moved away to return to his nightly tasks, leaving her to her own thoughts. _Well, he is right. As members of the Horde, we are at war with them. It is nothing more than they deserve, being in the lands of their enemy._ She looked away from the miserable sight of the trio and her scowl softened a bit. _But . . . are these really your enemy, Freaja Bloodsun? After all, the knight did save your life many times now. Even going against the law of his own people, to bring you out of their lands._

_But . . . for what reason? Why?_ she asked herself. _He claimed it was his duty. His oath to protect me! Yet, why would a human give his oath to an enemy?_

Freaja looked back at the rain-soaked man in chains, her frown returning tenfold as she watched him for several moments more. "Blast it. I must know." Turning, she reached for a weathered cloak - given to her by one of Varatos' men - and quickly slipped it on. She then reached for a lit lantern hanging on the wall nearby, and stepped out into the rainy night.

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oOoOo

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From his place on the muddy ground, Liam mac Roi looked worse than any man could be; stripped down to a pair of leather breeches, his hands bound behind his back as he knelt with a heavy iron chain wrapped around his throat. A knot at the back of his skull, covered by his rain-slicked auburn hair, throbbed with dull pain as mute testament to the rogue's attack.

Peering out from the cage that held her and Rhandall, Hanna looked on their friend with concern. "Liam . . . laddie? Are ye okay?"

From his place, sitting with his back against the bars, Rhandall snorted and sighed. "Leave 'm be, Hanna."

"I will not!" Hanna hissed at her cousin. "Th' lad hasn't said three words crosswise, since he woke up!"

"What's t'say, lass? I told 'im weeks back, this was a foolish thing t'do," Rhandall said. "An' look where it's gotten him? Where 'tis gotten all o' us. We're prisoners o' th' bloody undead, an' most likely won't live t'see our home an' family again."

Hanna started to aim a punch at Rhandall, but she let it drop when she saw the despair wreathed on his bearded face. "It may be . . . but, that's no reason t'give up!" She looked back out at Liam, and her concern redoubled. "Liam, ye never steered us wrong before," she said. "We'll find away out o' this."

"Oh, sure," Rhandall muttered. "An' th' calvary o' Stormwind's best are gonna come flyin' o'er th' bloody horizon, an' swoop down t' save us."

Before Hanna could say anything, she jerked up in alarm when one of the Forsaken guarding them called out. Watching as the guard moved off from his post, she saw someone approaching through the rain with a covered light. They stopped before the guard, speaking quickly and intently with the undead warrior, before he nodded and moved aside to let them advance. As the light drew closer, Hanna sucked in her breath, recognizing the slim, tall form of their former companion. "Lassie?"

At that, Rhandall turned and stared hard out through the bars. "Oh swell! Just when were visitin' hours s'posed t'be over in this place?"

Freaja paused, glaring at the dwarf for a moment before she moved past the cage to stand near Liam.

The paladin didn't react to her approach, his head down, rain water dripping from his mustache to the soggy ground.

"Well, knight," Freaja said at length. "It seems you will not be able to make good on your word to me." She wasn't gloating, nor did she sound callous. "It seems a rather inglorious way for your life to end."

Liam's face remained down, pallid and unresponsive.

Rhandall scowled and rose to grip the bars with both fists. "I find it rather inglorious fer ye t'gloat over th' lad. Some 'lady' ye turned out t'be! Kickin' a man when he's down as low as he can go!"

Freaja turned and shot the dwarf a look. "I am speaking to the knight, dwarf. Kindly remain civil, or I will call the guards to remind you of your current place," she said.

Hanna elbowed Rhandall sharply. "Don' be baitin' th' lassie, cousin. We ain't exactly on the best o' terms now, remember?"

Freaja turned her attention back to Liam. "Before we depart for Undercity in the morning, there is something I must know, knight," she said. "Something that only you can answer."

At that, Liam lifted his shoulders with a deep sigh. "Ask what you will, my Lady," he said, his voice a lifeless monotone.

Hanna watched, seeing Freaja's cheeks go pale under her rain-splattered hood, before they turned pink as her emotions flared. "I am your enemy. My people support the Orcish Horde . . . and yet you said you were bound by your word and your oath, to see me safely to my people. Why?" With every word, her anger grew and gave every question the sensation of unchecked fury. "What am I to you, knight? Why flout the laws of your own kingdom to protect me? Surely, even with your tenets as a paladin, you would have been better served to abandon me to my fate, yet each and every time-!" She cut herself off, seething in silence before she fired one last question: "Tell me, knight! Why did you feel you had to save me!"

For the moment, Liam appeared to be overwhelmed by the rising anger and ire in Freaja's voice. He remained kneeling in the mud, letting her tirade roll over him without reaction. Both Hanna and Rhandall watched with equal parts of sympathy and ire for the treatment of their friend . . . but, they held their tongues for the threat of Freaja's promise of calling the guards.

Then, before Freaja could continue her tirade, Liam lifted his face, staring at her with his dark blue eyes. "You wish to know the truth, Lady Freaja?"

"Of course, you impossible human!" Freaja snapped. "Tell me!"

Liam's gaze never wavered, as he sighed deeply once more, before he began to speak. "The truth . . . why I saved you, Lady Freaja, was because of a dream."

The shock on Freaja's face was echoed by the cousins. "A . . . a dream!"

Liam nodded, never taking his eyes off of Freaja's face. "A dream I have had for many a night . . . for months and months." He closed his eyes and continued to speak. "In my dream, I have seen a city, with a rising spire of light in its center. In that city, I come to stand before beings I have never seen before, but I know with my heart that they are firm believers in the Light.

"These beings are gathered before a . . . a entity made of Light's holy power," he said, not seeing the spreading shock on Freaja's face. "That being, welcomed me . . . saying they had been waiting. So that I and one other could help them."

"One, other?" Freaja asked. "What other one, knight?"

Liam opened his eyes, and the inner light of utter belief shone through them. "Another, who this being said had fallen through Darkness, only to rise again into the Light . . . this person, who would stand with me as my equal, to become an example to the rest of the world." Liam looked down briefly, before saying softly, "For the longest time, I could not see the face of this . . . this other person, for they were there with me, in the dream. Then, in the days before I found you, their face finally became clear to me.

"Their face, my Lady," he said, looking up at her with resolve, "was your face."

At that, Freaja gasped and stepped back a pace. "What!"

Liam said. "You were the face in my dream. You were the one I was told to find; to save, so that the vision within my dream could become true."

Shaking her head, Freaja staggered back another step. "You . . . y-you, must-!" She raised one slim hand to her throat, her face going pale once more. "You lie, knight! You could not have seen me in . . . in a-."

"Why would I lie, Lady? You asked for the reason." Liam asked simply.

Freaja stared mutely back, her jaw tense as she slowly curled her hand into a fist. Without another word, she whirled around and started walking back towards the Forsaken dwelling; the lantern bobbing in the wake of her jarring strides.

As the dwarves watched her go, Rhandall murmured, "What in all o' Uncle Dagron's cracked ale mug was that all about?"

"I dunno, cousin," Hanna said, before glancing at Liam to see that he was watching Freaja walk away as well. "Seems that a part o' th' whole mystery is clear now."

Rhandall shrugged. "Seein' yon lass in a dream?" Rhandall shot a dark look at Liam. "What th' devil has he gotten us intae for havin' some lolly-gaggin' dream?"

"Whatever it is, th' surest thing is yon lassie is takin' it tae th' heart," Hanna said. "But, why she's reactin' so badly fer hearin' it?" She shook her head. "I dunno what t'make o' it all, Rhan."

.  
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oOoOo

.

Freaja was nearly halfway back to the hovel, before she mastered herself and came to a stop. Fingers clutched tight around the handle of her lantern, she tried to work past the shock of Liam's words.

_A dream . . . a vision!_ Freaja swallowed past the hard knot in her throat. _That . . . that cannot be true! Yet, he is a paladin; a believer in the Holy Light._ she thought. _Such visions . . . no, it cannot be! Only the true believers have ever been shown such visions! My mother-!_

Freaja jerked her head around, looking back at the man chained to the muddy ground. He had been looking in her direction, but after a moment his head bowed down once more.

A feeling of a different sort - not rage or fear or disbelief - bubbled up from inside her, as she gazed at Liam's head. _Freaja Bloodsun . . . you are a fool, if you think you can believe his tale. Yet . . . when has that human ever, truly lied to you? Has he ever slighted you, or let his respect or protection of you lapse in all this time, traveling together?_ She bit her lip, before turning away to stare at the heavens above her. "_Minn'da_, if ever I needed wisdom from your teachings . . . it is now." She looked back once more, before she shook her head and started moving towards the Forsaken hovel.

_Mother . . . what am I do to, now?_

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	18. Chapter 18

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book Two"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**

**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2011**

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**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same.

This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: The segment of the hymn in this chapter is a literal transcription from the song, "**Invincible**", from the _World of Warcraft Soundtrack - Wrath of the Lich King _(Composers Russell Brower, Derek Duke and Edo Guidotti). It was inspirational to the creation of Liam's back story and character, and thus this version of the lyrics are how I perceived them to be written as, NOT the actual lyrics to be taken verbatim. - SRS.

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Eighteen

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Jahkor Sunblight's Command, Farstrider's Square, Silvermoon City..._

"There has been no word sent from our outlaying patrols, Captain Sunblight." Sergeant Alyn Sunstone said firmly. "After an extensive search by our outrunner patrols, no sign of the _sin'osa_ has been found."

Barely able to contain himself, Ranger-Captain Jahkor Sunblight stared hard into the eyes of his subordinate; his arms clasped tightly behind his back as he stood before his war table. The tall, blond haired elf officer worked his jaw to the side, before asking in a tight voice, "Have _all_ of our patrols sent in reports, Sergeant?"

"Yes, save for the ones we dispatched into the Plaguelands, which are well beyond our safe havens in the Ghostlands. As per your orders, Sir. we sent out sun hawks with all our scouts," Sergeant Sunstone replied. "Yet, we don't expect to hear from them for a few weeks, due to the distance and the hazard level of the area they must patrol."

Jahkor nodded once, then made a curt gesture of dismissal. "Return to your duties!" Not waiting to see the Farstrider leave, he turned about and glared at the war table and the notes piled on its surface. _Sear and scorch them to blackened bones!_ he railed inwardly. _No word from my Rangers afield, and the few I dispatched into Alliance lands have yet to send me word of their efforts! Blast it! We are that much closer to the time where my ultimate plan can be executed. I must know of Bloodsun's fate!_

His eyes flicked from point to point on the war map - where glowing points denoted the positions of all Farstrider units and those of Silvermoon's Blood Knights - and his scowl lessened somewhat. _At least the suggestions I've given to our illustrious leaders have taken without protest. Thanks to them, I've managed to influence the positioning of those accursed paladins, to thin their ranks to better suit my plans._

With a growing smile of smugness, Jakhor propped his hands on the table and nodded. "By the time those fools in the Blood Knight order realize what is happening, my trap will be sprung and then, the primacy of the Rangers will be fully entrenched." Straightening, he laughed softly. "Then, we will assure the strength of the Sin'dorei to any who would question us!"

Suddenly, there was a clatter of footsteps outside the entrance to his chamber. Whirling, Jakhor turned just as one of his younger officers appeared; looking pale and alarmed as he paused at the entrance.

"Well, what is it?" Jakhor snapped.

"Sorry, Sir!" The subordinate saluted sloppily, before saying, "Our commander has arrived! He wishes to speak to you, now, Sir!"

Jakhor's scowl returned anew, but he smothered it quickly. "All right. I will see him outside. Return to your post."

The subordinate nodded, and fled quickly, leaving Jakhor to compose himself before striding out of the chamber to greet his visitor.

Emerging into the sunlight outside of his headquarters, the Ranger-Captain looked towards the wide paving lane that stretched across the width of the square. Standing near the lane, were two Sin'dorei men. One, Jakhor recognized on sight. Wearing the leather and mail trappings of a Ranger, the fair-haired elf also bore the ranking of Ranger General; Halduron Brightwing, leader of all Sin'dorei Farstriders.

The other however, Jakhor didn't know, but the mail and plate armor - covered with a black tabard bearing the crimson firebird symbol - marked him as a member of the Blood Knights.

Jakhor saluted his commander. "General Brightwing. To what do I owe the honor of your presence here?"

Nodding, Halduron motioned to the Blood Knight before saying, "Captain, I've come to seek an update on the matter of the lost caravan. More to the point, to a missing Sin'dorei who was a part of it."

Jakhor stiffened inwardly, but he nodded. "Ah, I see. Well-."

"This knight is part of the concerned family seeking news, The missing woman in question is their sister." Halduron noted the arched look in his Captain's face. "Knight-Lieutenant Freajr Bloodsun came to us to report that there has been some time since the initial search for his sister was begun."

Jakhor stared up at the Blood Knight and nodded. While Freajr was every bit as common as most Sin'dorei men - from his pointed ears to the fel-green glow in his eyes - what marked him was his unusual height and size. Standing clearly several feet taller than even Jakhor's own modest height. "I am sorry, General Brightwing and to you . . . Lieutenant Bloodsun?" he said, trying not to sound displeased as he spoke the elf's surname. "My other duties have been most pressing as of late. I do apologize."

Freajr nodded, his face filled with a stoic expression. "I understand, Captain. Still we would have thought some word of progress should have come sooner." His hands held a long-handled. leaf-bladed sword, which he now held before him with its point planted against the ground. "My family is most concerned for the lack of any word of my sister, Captain," Freajr said, his voice a deep timbre as he spoke.

"I do apologize again . . . deeply, for the slow progress, Lieutenant," Jakhor said simply. "I do have a few, dedicated men continuing to search for your sister." He held up both hands in a helpless gesture. "I do admit, it is hard to tell who exactly carried out the attack. We suspected human raiders . . . though signs point in some part towards rogue trolls from the Amani tribes. We all know what trolls . . . well, do to their captives," he said, his face filling with a bleak look.

Halduron tipped his head to the side, before asking, "Despite that, do you still have a idea of where the Lieutenant's sister might have been taken, Captain?"

"If I did not, General Brightwing, I would have long since called off the search," Jakhor said firmly. "Give my men enough time, Sir, and we will find her."

Halduron shared a look with Freajr, before he said, "It is most important that we do, Captain. Lieutenant Bloodsun speaks not only for his concern, but for that of his father."

"We must find her, Captain. It is of the utmost importance that her fate is revealed," Freajr said firmly. "Aside from easing the worry of our father, if simply for closure . . . ."

Jakhor nodded and gave the Blood Knight a salute. "I will see to this matter personally, Lieutenant. If all proceeds well, I shall endeavor to have news for you by the end of this week."

That seemed to satisfy both Freajr and General Brightwing. "We shall leave you to your duties then, Captain. Until our next meeting before Regent-Lord Theron and Grand Magister Rommath, then?" With that, both men saluted Jakhor and turned to leave.

Watching them go, Jakhor saluted again, then let his hand fall and a dark look creep over his face. "Thank you, for your concern, Oh-Mighty Ranger General Brightwing! Phagh!" Inwardly, he seethed as he watched the two depart across the square. _Oh, I shall give my undivided attention to the matter of your . . . sister, Lieutenant!_ he thought. _Though, by the time I am done, I am afraid that the news I will deliver will not be of a happy sort!_

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oOoOo

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._  
The Sepulcher, Silverpine Forest, The Morning After the Rescue in Shadowfang Keep..._

"Get up! On your feet, Alliance scum!" The sound of a sword hilt clanging against the metal bars of their cage woke the sleeping dwarf; jarring him to alertness just a moment before the guard swung around to motion to his fellow. "Get that wretch unchained and movin'! Lord Varatos wants these sacks of flesh on the road before the hour is over!"

Jerking upright with a groan, Rhandall Stormhand glared up at the back of the Forsaken guard. "Gently, gently, gently . . . ye rottin' sack of knucklebones," he said under his breath. Rising with stiff and protesting joints, he nudged his red-haired cousin. "Get up, Hanna. Seems daylight comes early in Silverpine."

Hanna yawned mightily, rolling over to get to her knees before peering through the bars of their prison. "Ach, 'tis a dreary mornin' we're rising tae, Rhan." The skies were still grey with twilight overhead, and a blanket of fog covered the ground beyond their view. Seeing the bustling activity of the Forsaken all around them, the Wildhammer dwarf sighed. "How's Liam?"

Rhandall turned to look towards the place where Liam had been chained up, seeing that Varatos' fellows were roughly dragging the human paladin to his feet. A few more Forsaken were walking by, leading a pair of undead steeds, while several undead men were securing the trailing mounts that belonged to the captured trio to the back of their wagon.

"Well, looks like they're not wastin' any time," Rhandall muttered, climbing to his feet.

"D'ye expect them t'have tea an' biscuits set out fer yer breakfast, cousin?" Hanna said softly.

Rhandall just shook his head. "I'd be happy wi' a skin o' sweet spring water an' hard tack, all things considered."

The guard returned, jerking open the door of their cage and motioning harshly with his sword. "C'mon you putrid sacks of meat! Get goin'!"

Together, under the watchful eyes of their guards, the Cousins stepped out of the cage and moved towards the waiting buckboard. Another pair of Forsaken warriors had Liam braced against the side of the wagon, his arms now bound in front of him in preparation to ride. The paladin looked soaked to the skin and haggard, clearly having the roughest night between the three of them.

"Och, th' lad's nay lookin' any better this day," Rhandall said.

A guard bustled past them, jabbing Rhandall in the back with his polearm before turning to hiss at the pair. "Get movin'! Take your place on the wagon, or we'll chain you and make you run behind it!"

Rhandall bristled, but stopped himself when Hanna put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay yer temper, Rhan, or we'll be worse off than we already are!" Shoving him towards their wagon, she added, "Bide. We'll figure out summat t'get us out o' this mess."

As the dwarves climbed into the back of the wagon bed, two more figures emerged from the mists swirling around the clustered wagon and mounts. Coming closer, the fog parted and revealed them to be Varatos himself and Freaja; the later still looking tense and pale even in the early morning light.

"Well, well," Hanna muttered. "Looks like we weren't th' only ones t'have a rough night."

Plopping down into the bottom of the buckboard, Rhandall only gave the tall elf woman a fleeting glance before he put his back against the wooden side boards. "So it shouldn't be a total loss. Better that she has a bad night's sleep o'er her betrayal than us."

.

oOoOo

.

"Must we set out this early?" Freaja asked the undead elf walking beside her. Clad in relatively clean clothes and her still-damp cloak, the red-haired Sin'dorei woman stalked stiffly through the grass. Her temper wasn't in the best state, having failed to get any rest the night before. "The sun isn't even up past the mountains."

"I would have let all sleep in, Lady Freaja," Deathstalker Varatos said, "but, word came by runner from the Undercity that patrols have been stepped up along all of the former King's Road. With that, it is now much safer to travel than it was last night. I have sent one of my men ahead," he said. "We will be expected, when we arrive at the Undercity."

Freaja merely nodded, before turning to look at the assembled mounts around the dwarves' confiscated wagon. "Where am I to-?"

"Forgive us, Lady Freaja. I fear a few of our people . . . ate one of the dwarves' rams in the night," Varatos said, though there was a cruel, wry smile on his rotting face. "We ourselves have no spare mounts. As such, with the wagon now loaded with supplies and two of the prisoners, you will have to share the human's mount." He motioned towards the rear of the wagon, where Liam's sabercat was now muzzled and tethered to its back. "It is not the most... agreeable arrangement, but it is much better than running in the mud."

Freaja looked at the undead elf with a sharp glare, then she stiffly turned and stalked towards the wagon's rear. One of Varatos' men stood nearby, keeping watch over Liam - who sat with his hands tied to the 'cat's saddle. As she stepped up beside the 'cat, the guard grunted and knelt, offering his hands as a stirrup to assist her. With a curt nod, she put her foot up into his hands and boosted herself up and over onto the saddle in front of Liam. Trying to settle herself, she found she couldn't sit without being pressed up against Liam's front.

"Is there a problem, Lady?" the Forsaken asked.

"Just, trying . . . to get comfortable, that's all." She waited until the undead walked away to see to other tasks, before turning to glare at the paladin. "Must you be so close, Knight!" she asked crossly.

Liam had been unemotional and silent up until she spoke to him. Looking down, he said softly, "There is little I can do, Lady. Save I can ask them to let me run beside the cart, if only to make you comfortable."

Freaja turned to snap at him, only to go silent at the emotionless expression on his face. She bit her lip briefly, before turning around and saying, "No. We cannot be slowed down by any one of you . . . prisoners." She twisted in the saddle briefly, before giving up. "I shall have to make do."

"Very well, my Lady," Liam said, leaning against the saddle's back.

Freaja scowled, then sniffed twice before glancing back over her shoulder in disgust. "Couldn't they have let you bathe, knight?"

A small smile flickered across Liams mustached face, only to die just as quick as it appeared. "I am sorry. They did not allow me to ask for such an . . . apparent luxury, Lady."

Freaja's scowl lessened, and she turned back to face forwards once more. "Oh. I see . . . ." She shook her head, before sighing deeply. "Just so you know, your odor does not please my senses, knight. As such, this current arrangement gives me no real pleasure." She looked back at him once more. "Just so you know that, even now before you . . . before you-."

"Before I am to die." Liam said simply. He merely shrugged his shoulders. "Yes. I understand." He dropped his gaze and added softly, "All too well."

.

oOoOo

.

The passage out from the Sepulcher was swift as it was uneventful. Deathstalker Varatos drove them quickly down the long winding course of what was once called The King's Road; never stopping once, thanks to the marked presence of several armed Forsaken patrols that passed them along the way.

The former lands of Lordaeron loomed all around them, making the dismal pallor of Silverpine seem cheerful by comparison. What had once been a lush and green verdant land was now covered in grays and putrid tones. Nightmare creatures lurked in the misty places between the gnarled, weather-worn trees, and the few buildings that could be seen from the roadway - former remnants of farms and homesteads - were nothing more than rotting husks.

To Varatos and his fellows, this desolation didn't affect them in the slightest.

Yet, for Freaja, seated astride Liam's mount, she sense the weight of loss pressing down on her. _I'd heard tell of how the kingdom of Lordaeron was once a proud example of the humans,_ she told herself. _Stories of the land's bounty had always been a partial envy of my people - because of the human's ability to adapt and make the lands bend to their will._ Staring now at the gloomy looks of the two dwarves, who were hunched down in the wagon before her, she felt their dismay as keenly as a sword cut.

Yet, if Hanna and Rhandall were put out by the dismal lands on display around them, Liam's own countenance was outright pitiful. The few times she'd looked at the paladin behind her, she couldn't miss the agony in his dark-blue eyes, nor the sorrowful expression on his face.

_He hurts._ The realization hit home like a punch to the gut. _This blighted kingdom was once his homeland!_ Looking ahead once more, Freaja felt the warmth drain from her face. _Our people mourn the loss of our Sunwell, and the devastation wrought by the Scourge . . . but we still have our home. For him, to have lost his home, his people's lands . . . the entirety of their kingdom-?_ She shivered from the imagined horror of such a complete loss.

Behind her, Liam spoke softly, "Are you all right, Lady?"

Mastering herself, Freaja glanced back at him, before saying firmly, "I am, knight."

Liam sighed. "Very well."

The sound of his emotionless tone wrenched her heart. _Great Sun! What is wrong with me?_ she asked herself. _Pity? For him?_ Though she tried to raise her ire, the ember of her anger cooled before the hard truth; yes, she did pity this human. _If the roles were reversed . . . if you had lost all of Quel'thalas-?_ Giving her head a small shake, Freaja frowned and shored herself back up from such dark thoughts.

Eventually, the road crested and came to a small rise. Slowing them down, Varatos rose in the saddle on his skeletal steed and pointed through the gloom. "There . . . the ruin of Lordaeron's capital," he said. "We shall soon be at the Undercity! Onwards!" With that, he dropped down and spurred his undead mount, and the caravan followed close behind.

Looking ahead, Freaja could make out the crumbling walls and shattered towers of the keep which had once been the grand palace at the heart of Lordaeron. No life existed in these former, hallowed stones. Now, even the very air hung dead about them. She saw the dark looks on the Cousin's faces turn blacker, and the human at her back seemed to wilt with a sigh.

Moving onwards, the small caravan pulled up to the croft in front of the main entrance. A cluster of armed Forsaken were waiting there, along with what appeared to be a few undead in moldy, tattered robes. A plate-wearing soldier stepped up to take hold of Varatos' mount, while greeting the Deathstalker with a salute. "Hail, Lord Varatos."

"Hail, Captain," the undead elf said, sliding down from his saddle.

"We have brought guards to take charge of your prisoners and see to the disposition of their weapons and mounts," the Captain said. "As well, the Grand Apothecary Society wanted to see them as well." He nodded to the robe-wearers, who were waiting for the guards to surround the captives.

"Good. We will need an escort for that one. The Lady Freaja," Varatos said, nodding to Freaja as she slowly slipped down to the ground. "These Alliance pigs were holding her against her will, and she'll need to be returned to her people with due haste."

The Captain nodded, turning to motion to one of his men. "I'll have her taken to the Sin'dorei Ambassador at once."

By now, Freaja had stepped up to where Varatos and the Captain were standing and had heard the last part of their exchange. "Is that necessary, Deathstalker Varatos?"

"Indeed," The Captain said. "No one may enter or move about the Undercity freely. Once you've been presented to your representative, they will decide on what means you may be returned to friendly lands, Lady."

"Oh . . . I see, then." Freaja would have said more, but her eyes caught Liam and the dwarves as they were being led towards the entrance. From the looks of despair on the two cousin's faces, and the equally bleak expression on the human it shouldn't have been a shock to her. Yet the emotion she felt was sorrow and regret, though she kept both under a mask of indifference as she followed her escort after them.

That changed when they passed through the entrance and beyond.

From her place, Freaja could see the worsening mood of Liam; his shoulders sagging, his step slowing with every pace taken across the ruin of the courtyard. Once proud monuments were crumbled. Moss and rot covered the stones of the walls. A lone mosullieum lay in wrecked disarray in the corner. As they crossed the remains of a drawbridge, the sound and sickening smell of ichor and decay came from below. This gave pause even to her elfish senses, but to Liam it looked like he'd been given a kick to the gut.

_This was his people's capitol,_ she thought. _The jewel in the human kingdom Loredaeron. To come back now . . . to see it like this-?_ They soon passed further on, down a long hallway where the ruin of a large bell lay. At the end, two massive doors sat askew of their hinges. The guards ushered them through without a word, into a massive, circular chamber on the other side.

Looking up, Freaja could see several high balconies. Looking down, the floor - while coated with years of disuse and dust - still showed it's decorative inlay of gold and colored marble; depicting the elaborate letter L which was the sigil for Loredaeron.

It was here, that the guards almost had a problem, as Liam stopped near the exact center of the chamber, and refused to budge.

"Come along, Alliance dog!" The captain said harshly. "Do as you are told!"

Liam continued to remain as he was; ramrod straight in posture and not even acknowledging the undead man's command.

Freaja shot a look at Hanna and Rhandall; both dwarves were staring at their companion, fresh worry bursting across their faces. "Ach, the laddie's gone doggo," Hanna muttered.

"Canna ye blame him?" Rhandall said. "It'd be like if we came tae th' ruin's o' Ironforge."

A wave of comprehension rolled across Freaja's entire being, just as she heard the sound of a blow striking home against flesh. Whipping her head back around, she saw Liam stagger backwards, while the captain loomed in front of him with both bony fists clenched. "I said, MOVE!" The captain barked. "Blasted human scum!"

Liam recovered, but did nothing to try to defend or lash back. Instead, he returned to his rigid stance and stared directly ahead.

One of the other guards drew his sword, and started to stalk up to Liam. "By the Dark Lady, I'll make him move-!"

"Hold your weapon, warrior!"

All eyes turned towards Freaja. It had been her command that now echoed around the chamber, which slowly lapsed into awed silence.

"Are you as blind as you are unbreathing!" She said, mastering herself, even as she railed internally _What are you doing, girl? Why do you even care?_ Drawing a calming breath, she didn't answer her own inner query, but instead she said, "The knight clearly will not move until he pays respect to his former kingdom. This was once the high-seat of his people. Can you not see, Captain?" She pointed towards the head of the room, where the empty throne of the kingdom sat. "He only wishes to pay respect to those no longer living."

The guards and the captain looked at one another, then the captain bowed to Freaja, "Well . . . very well, Lady." He then snarled at Liam. "He'd just best be respectful right quick. I'll brook no more delays, or we'll send you to the Apothecary in pieces!"

Liam seemed to acknowledge that statement, as he nodded slowly to the guards, then he turned to the captain and held out his hands. "Unbind me. I will not be chained while I show my respect for my former king and kingdom." When the captain started to rail, he said quickly, "I will do nothing to escape or fight you, Captain. You have my sworn word as a Knight of the Silver Hand."

That took the captain back a bit, but he growled and moved to unbind Liam's hands. "Now, hurry and be done with your tribute, paladin!"

Liam merely gave the captain a measured stare, then with a glance towards Freaja he moved to the center of the chamber, and lowered himself to one knee. Bowing his head, he slowly took in a long breath, before letting it out.

Then, to the surprise of all, he began to sing. While soft, his voice carried around the chamber; a resonating baritone, carried with the words spoken of the elder tongue of the old human kingdoms:

_Mi lito Equinus, Orn Bitas, sla cunna...  
G'oh dorlun koroh bodha uhm,  
Bodha uhm, Lor'kasha, detrmentum du Atas...  
La deitas..._

_An Karanir Thanagor,  
More O' Angalor...  
More O' Gorum Paladum, Raval Deas._

Freaja blinked, unable to comprehend the meaning of the words yet moved by the emotions behind them. The guards and their captain too seemed to be affected, as they watched in awe while Liam's voice drifted off into a profound silence.

Rising, Liam turned to the captain and offered his wrists. "I am ready to go now, Captain. There will be no further delay."

The captain shook himself and moved to bind Liam's hands once more, though it appeared he did not do it as roughly as Varatos' men had done. "Move then, and be quick about it."

As they continued out of the chamber, Freaja turned to the guard escorting her. "Those . . . words, the knight sang? Do you know what they meant?"

The undead guard regarded her for a moment. "As I was once . . . human, yes, I do know those words, Lady." The guard looked uncomfortable - as if the memory of his former life was something he'd rather forget. "They are of an old hymn, from Lordaeron's ancient days. They speak of the nation we once were, what we aspired to become, and of the first of the paladins that came to aid in the defense of our people."

Beside them, Varatos merely snorted. "Middling living sentiment!"

The guard looked at the undead elf, then sighed before staring at the back of Liam for a few seconds. "The paladin pays a . . . a fitting tribute, to who we once were." He then scowled. "Pity. He will most likely end up fodder for Putress and his Apothocaries now."

Freaja shuddered. "I . . . I see."

"Come, Lady," The guard said. "The Sin'dorei Ambassador should be in their private quarters below, in the Undercity."

.

oOoOo

.

The guards hustled Liam and the Dwarves quickly through the crypt-like, cavernous underground sprawl that was the Forsaken's capital. Here, far from the surface, light existed only from lit lamps, glowing lichen and moss, and from the bubbling, sickly-smelling ichor that filled the wide canals encircling the central 'hub' of the Undercity. Passing by shambling unliving horrors and shuffling beings who may have been human at on time, it was clear to all three that the living were hardly welcome in this place.

When a mail-clad rogue hissed at them in passing, Rhandall made a face of disgust and said, "Yer mother as well, ya putrid, walking-." A cuff to the back of his head from one of the guards cut off his words.

"Mind your tongue, dwarf, or I'll gladly separate it from your mouth!"

Rhandall glared back over his shoulder, but wisely didn't provoke a further response.

Liam merely kept his own peace, saying nothing and merely following behind the captain.

Eventually, the guards marched them up to a wide, alcove-styled area that was littered with boxes and a half-rotting, wheeled coach carrying a coffin in its flatbed. At the back, a winding wooden walkway spiraled down and around a scaffold, supporting what appeared to be a massive, gurgling stomach in its rails. A metal apparatus clamped to the bottom part was slowly milking a foul, green slime from the giant organ.

The guard grinned grimly at the looks of disgust on the Cousin's faces. "Welcome to the Apothecarium, Alliance pigs," he said, nudging them forwards. "Move along!"

Guided down the walkway, Liam and the dwarves marched with their guards, until they reached a set of stone steps and had to continue down them as well.

Eventually, they emerged into a large, box-shaped chamber in the bottom-most part of the Apothecarium; the walls seemed to radiate evil and malice, while metal gibbets and rickety tables filled the spaces not occupied by undead figures - who were moving from table to table with purpose and resolve. Upon the tables sat bubbling pots and jars containing steaming potions. Light flickered from dripping candles, and an acrid stench filled the air. Wooden shelves stacked against the walls held rows of weathered tomes, bizarre skulls and strange creatures suspended in jars of green liquid.

Shoving their charges forward, the guards marched down to the wide floor at the heart of the chamber. Of to one side, the trio could see a doorway, through which more iron cages could be seen. From within, tentacles and pincers thrust outwards, and squeals and whimpers could be heard, as if the distorted creatures inside were begging to be released.

Rhandall whispered, more to himself than for either Liam or Hanna's sake, "Light preserve us all from this place!"

Just then, a voice called out from a shadowy corner nearby, "Captain? What is the meaning of this . . . visitation?"

"Master Apothecary Faranell," the captain said. "We bring you fresh meat for the Society to . . . work with."

Emerging from the shadows, a hunched, feeble-looking figure in dark robes stepped forwards, clutching a withered staff as he walked slowly up to the trio. Emaciated, the pale skin on Faranell's face stretched across his features in a grim smile as he eyed both Hanna and Rhandall. "Hmmm... it has been a while since we have had dwarf available to our researchers," he said. Reaching out, his action caused a pair of wands hooked to his belt to clink together. Touching one of Hanna's braids, he chuckled as she jerked away from his bony fingers. "Yes, very lively, too." He glanced at Rhandall, and nodded. "Male and female, together . . . An excellent pair to have brought to us, Captain. We shall have a good turn in the testing area for them." Shifting sideways, Faranell gazed up at Liam with shrewd eyes. "Hmm, disappointing. Another human."

"This one is a paladin, Master Apothecary," The captain said.

At that, Faranell's eyes grew wide. "Ahh . . . a member of the Silver Hand, perhaps? Or one of those accursed Scarlet Crusaders?" With a grin, Faranell added, "No matter. We shall always have a special place for members of your particular class, human!"

Liam didn't so much as flinch, but he did say softly, "Your works will come to no good end, Sir. The Light will prevail against your deathly efforts."

Fanarell chuckled. "Oh, I do believe you will see the error in that line of thinking, human." His smile turned cruel and dark. "I will personally see to that."

"Do you wish them prepared for our next round of testing, Master Faranell?" Another Forsaken apothecary said, coming up to stand with Faranell.

Faranell cocked his head in thought. "No, not just now . . . there is much to prepare, and I want to make sure we will be using the freshest batch of our improved Blight." He nodded to the captain. "Take them to the holding pen, and lock them up. I will send for them, when it is time."

"As you wish, Master Apothecary." The captain nodded to his men, and hands reached out to seize the living trio with a firm grip . . . .

.

oOoOo

.

Elsewhere, Freaja was receiving the scrutiny of several pairs of eyes and, not for the last time she wished she had come at a better time.

Varatos and her escort had quickly brought her to the private quarters of the Sin'dorei ambassador. The lone guard outside had taken only a moment to listen to Varatos' account, before they knocked on the door and slipped inside briefly to speak to the occupant inside. Within a moment, the guard returned to open the door wide before bowing in respect to the persons emerging to meet them all. The first one was a robed male Blood Elf, wearing red and gold shoulder guards and carrying a blade-headed staff - Ambassador Sunsorrow. Coming beside him, was a female Blood Elf in crimson armor who stared hard at Freaja, before stepping back a pace to allow the Ambassador to address them.

"Deathstalker Varatos," Ambassador Sunsorrow said evenly.

"Forgive our intrusion, Ambassador. We've only just returned from Silverpine, where we liberated this woman from some Alliance dogs." Varatos turned to indicate Freaja with one hand. "As she is one of your countrywomen, I felt it best to bring her here to you."

The Ambassador nodded, before looking at Freaja directly. "And you are, Lady?"

Freaja flicked a glance at the other Sin'dorei woman, before she stepped up to Sunsorrow and bowed. "I am Freaja Bloodsun, Ambassador."

When she spoke, both the ambassador and the armored woman looked at each other in alarm. "Dame Bloodsun?" the woman said, stepping up to peer closely at her. "Forgive me if I sound surprised, but . . . It is a wonder that you are appearing before us, here and now."

Ambassador Sunsorrow said, "Yes, as Champion Cyssa Dawnrose said, it is a wonder, for news of your demise has even reached us here, in Undercity. There was much said between our contacts in Silvermoon about the matter of the caravan attack-."

"An attack, which we were led to believe that all who traveled with the caravan were lost." Cyssa said. "My fellow paladins in the Order, as well as the Farstriders were adamant in both of their assessments of the dead."

Freaja shook her head. "Those reports of my death are, at best premature, Ambassador. Dame Dawnrose. I do not wish to keep you from your business, but-."

"That is well that you should not wish to interrupt us," came an unearthly voice from the doorway of the ambassador's quarters, "but, you already have, Dame Bloodsun."

Before either Cyssa or Sunsorrow could speak, the owner of that voice emerged and made everyone back away several paces. The speaker was a woman; a tall elven figure with dark leather and mail armor, with a hood that did little to cover the long locks of white hair spilling out over her shoulders. A quiver and twin swords hung from her shoulders and waist respectively, while she gripped a long battle bow in one fist. What marked her further was the pale, blue-gray skin and glowing, ember-like red eyes that were now fixed on Freaja.

At once, Varatos and the others - Freaja included - bowed humbly before this woman. "I am sorry for the interruption, Lady Sylvannas."

Sylvannas made a curt gesture. "Why are you interrupting our conference? Speak quickly, now!"

"Forgive us, Dark Lady," Varatos said. "We were only bringing Freaja Bloodsun to her kinsmen, to facilitate her safe return home." Varatos quickly launched into an abbreviated recount of Freaja's 'rescue' in Shadowfang.

Listening, Sylvannas never let her gaze drift away from Freaja's face. Eventually, as the Deathstalker finished his tale, the Banshee Queen asked, "Is this all true, Dame Bloodsun?"

Still in shock and not daring to say anything for the moment that would contradict Varatos' account, Freaja simply nodded her head.

"Very well," Sylvannas said at length. "Deathstalker, take Dame Bloodsun back up to the surface. She shall use the Orb of Translocation in the over-croft to return to her people." She glanced at Freaja and said, "I do not mean to be rude, but there are matters of greater importance that demand my attention at this time." She looked at both Sunsorrow and his fellow Sin'dorei and said curtly, "Ambassador." With that, Sylvannas turned and stalked back into the ambassador's quarters.

Both Cyssa and the ambassador looked at each other, then at Freaja helplessly. "I am sorry about this, Dame Bloodsun." he said quickly, before nodding to Varatos and his guards. "Take her up, quickly. We shall speak again about this . . . later." With that, both he turned to follow Lady Sylvannas inside.

Blinking, Freaja stared after them in utter shock. _What . . . what just happened? What could be so urgent that they would be lock stepped by the Forsaken's ruler like that?_ Quickly, she reached out before the Sin'dorei paladin could follow the others and gripped her arm. "Forgive me, Dame Dawnrose, but . . . what is this talk of greater matters? Especially where it involves both you and the ambassador for our people?"

Cyssa was clearly split between returning to the conference with the Forsaken leader, and wanting to speak to Freaja. In the end, she said quickly, "There's been word of . . . increasing activity of the Scourge. There's talk of increasing attacks against both the Alliance and our friends in the Horde." She frowned, glancing back into the ambassador's chambers, before adding in a tense voice, "There's been reports of . . . Arthas, back among the forces of the undead. Leading them once more-."

"Dame Dawnrose!" came the call of Sylvannas from beyond the doorway.

Cyssa flinched, then gave Freaja a bow and a hurried, "Forgive me, I must attend to the Dark Lady.", before she turned and walked quickly into the ambassador's suite.

Stunned, Freaja watched her go before turning away to face Varatos and her escort. From the looks on their faces, they had heard Cyssa's words, but if the import of the name of Arthas meant anything to them, they didn't let it show. Arthas and the Scourge . . . on the move, but for what reason? She hugged herself while she thought, What reason would any of those cursed to work with Arthas need to attack any on Azeroth? Yet, it doesn't make sense. To anger both the Horde and our enemies to bolster our forces . . . ?

"Lady Bloodsun."

Freaja looked up at the Deathstalker, leaving off her thoughts as she realized he was watching her intently. "Yes. I am sorry . . . what they said, it was . . . disturbing to say the least."

Varatos nodded. "Such as it may be, Lady, you have your leave to return to the Sin'dorei. Come," he said. "Let us escort you to the over-croft. The way home waits for you there."

Freaja nodded, following as Varatos and her escort let the way from the ambassador's suite, down some steps and out into the central part of the undead city.

With every step, Freaja felt some relief wash over her. _Well, it is for the best,_ she told herself. _I'll soon be home, back among my people and this adventure will be well behind me._ She tipped her head to the side, and snorted softly. _Not all of it is ended though . . . I still must learn whom attacked me, and why they went to such lengths to have me taken so far from my family and home. That, is something that will take time to unravel . . . ._

She slowed her pace a bit, as her thoughts drifted towards another point. _As will the mystery of the cure the knight was attempting to use on me._ She looked down at her hands, which for the moment were as steady as a rock. _I've not had a tremor, nor any sign of withdrawal since his last . . . treatment. Something in what he does - using healing powers in a way I didn't expect._ Her face twisted in a frustrated scowl. _Oh! What do I care? He'll soon be dead and that will be that!_

As she moved to keep up with her escort, a small voice in the back of her mind spoke up: _Yes, the paladin will die, and you will have to live with the fact his death was your fault._

_My fault?_ Freaja jerked upright and tossed her head angrily. _He chose to help me! I never asked for his help._

_And yet,_ the voice replied, _if he had not, you would certainly be dead._

_He foolishly gave his word to help me!_

_He followed the dictates of honor and his will to help those in need . . . much like your mother did once._

Freaja's steps faltered; her anger fading before the sudden truth in those words. _My mother . . . she-._

_She was a servant of the Light, like Liam mac Roi is,_ the voice said. _She was certainly no fool in her belief and actions to give aid to those who sought it. Is he no less than She was? He, who has saved your life many times over, when he most certainly could have refused and left you to fate?_

Freaja frowned, unable to retort to that line of thought.

_You know, in your heart and mind, Freaja Bloodsun, that Liam mac Roi does not deserve a meaningless death in this place,_ the voice said firmly. _His life, and those of his companions must be saved, as your own life was saved._

Freaja walked on, unable to stop but moving more like an unthinking automaton than the prideful woman of purpose she had believed herself to be. _Yet . . . what can I do? I cannot save him!_

_You know you must try. Else, why call yourself a believer of justice? Of unquestionable righteousness?_

Freaja looked down, unable to answer the voice or its words. Lifting her hands, she stared at them as she came to a slow stop, before curling them into fists. _Damn him . . . that impossible human! What am I to do? Leave him and doom him to die? Make the attempt to save him and possibly doom myself in the process!_

"Lady Freaja?" Varatos called to her, having stopped when he noticed she was no longer with her escorts.

Freaja blinked, then looked up at the undead elf. "Y-yes . . . forgive me, I . . . I have a bit on my mind."

Varatos nodded. "Anxious to return to your home, yes? Well, if we hurry, you will be back in Silvermoon in little time."

Freaja nodded, putting on a mask of acceptance even though inside her emotions were at an epic pitch against each other. _Great Sun and All-Stars! What am I to do . . . even though I know what I should do, do I even have the will to do it?_

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	19. Chapter 19

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book Two"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2011**

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**DISCLAIMER** : _This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._  
_._  
_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

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Nineteen

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._  
Deep within the Undercity, Ruins of Loredaeron, Tirisfal Glades..._

A drop of something wet - ichor, blood or something else equally foul - fell through the bars of the cage Liam was squatting in and splattered against his cheek. Absently, he reached up and flicked it away from his skin, before looking down at the floor of the cage.

Once again, the Forsaken had stripped him down bare to a pair of trunks, leaving him shivering against the chill air flowing through the holding chamber. Shifting a bit, the auburn-haired paladin felt his skin crawl when some roaches scuttled along the ground outside the bars, only to watch them scatter as a rabid-looking rat pounced in the middle of their group. It scooped up a couple in its paws, jamming them into a snaggle-toothed mouth to chew them up. When it noticed Liam's stare, the rat hissed throatily before scampering off into the gloom of the shadows.

_This was not how I expected my days to end_, he told himself.

All around them, other cages sat amid the bleak darkness. All were filled with one or two beings - humans, some elves and the like - all of whom were filled with the same dark emotional state as he was. From the look of many, they'd been prisoners here for quite a while, to await their final disposition at the hands of the Apothecaries.

Looking across the cage. he watched his companions, who sat with their backs against the metal bars while trying to ignore the bleak atmosphere around them. Rhandall and Hanna both had their eyes fixed elsewhere but on him, and it caused a pang of guilt inside his heart. _It is my fault that they will share my fate. I never wanted this for any of us . . . yet, here we sit. Certain death is our fate, and it awaits us in the chamber beyond. _

Liam stared out through the bars, peering through the entrance of the holding room. Beyond, the Apothecaries were working hard and fast. The sounds of cackling undead Apothecaries, intermixed with the bubble, slop and splash of various liquids, the hiss of gases and the random screams of hapless prisoners filtered back through the opening. It was a cataphony of chaos that set his nerves on edge.

Beside him, a human female moaned, rolling her forehead against the bars of her cage. "Nooo, why don't they stop already?"

In another cage, a night elf looked up from where he sat with his arms around both raised knees. "They delight in our misery, human. Adding more noise will only encourage them."

From his place, Rhandall muttered under his breath. "Aye, but a little compassion would'nae hurt us none, Elf." He uncoiled himself and rose to stare out at the chamber entrance. "'Sides, we're not dead, not yet."

Hanna looked up from where she sat and nodded to her cousin. "Aye, Rhan, but what can we do? Escape doesn't seem tae be an option fer us now."

Rhandall snorted softly, but he nodded and said, "Aye. Still . . . ." He glanced at Liam, pursing his lips before saying, "What else can we do?"

Liam looked at his companion. He would have said something, but the sound of approaching footsteps make him turn towards the entrance; rising as his every sense came to full alertness. A pair of Forsaken appeared in the entrance; one was a lanky, deranged looking member of the Apothecary, who was loping alongside a taller Forsaken in elaborate robes and a raven's skull mask. _What is this?_ Liam asked silently.

"Forgive Keever, Grand Master," the lanky apothecary said humbly. "Keever was not expecting you, so Keever does not have results ready-."

"Be at ease, Keever," the taller Forsaken said airily. "I did not come here to blather over poor results, nor to pester your Master Faranell over the . . . lack of progress on the new blight." The robed Forsaken turned to stare at each of the prisoner's cages in turn. "I had been told of new arrivals, prisoners that had been seized by our forces . . . ?"

Keever bobbed his head several times. "Yes, yes, Grand Master Putress!" He waved a bony, gloved hand towards the cage where Liam was. "These were brought to Master Faranell, just today." Giving a nervous chuckle, he said, "Keever had hoped to use the human, in his continued development of the ultimate weapon."

Watching as the Grand Master slowly approached his cage, Liam steeled himself and tried not to show his disgust at the wretched undead creature's air of superiority.

Putress appeared to eye Liam closely, before he chuckled. "Ahhh, I see. And, you are?" he asked, pointing at Liam.

"I am a knight of the Silver Hand, Grand Master," Liam said stiffly.

At that, Putress' laugh returned with more dark menace. "A-ha, a paladin! Yes . . . I can see you are not pleased with what we have done to your . . . former city." Putress turned and began to slowly stalk around the cage. "Be assured, this is but only the beginning of our masterful work, paladin. By the time we are through, the Forsaken will have not only gained our rightful place in the living world, but we shall also have eliminated our greatest foe as well."

Liam followed Putress with his eyes, frowning deeply. "You cannot hope to defeat the entire human race, Grand Master. Light willing, we will stand against you."

Putress stopped and made a dismissive gesture. "Phagh! Your pitiful race is the least of my concerns, paladin. I speak of the true enemy to all Forsaken," he said, before snorting at the looks of aghast filling the other prisoner's faces.

Liam's frown deepened, then his eyebrows flew up in alarm. "You mean . . . the death knight, Arthas!"

At that, Putress let go with a truly malicious cackle. "Arthas, yes! Yet, he is no longer just a mere death knight," he said. "Surely, you know of the events that have befallen in the vast northern wastes of Northrend?" When both Liam and the Cousins exchanged blank looks with each other, Putress shook his head. "No matter. You will not live long enough to learn what comes."

Liam reached out to grip the bars as he stared hard at Putress. "What? What is coming?"

Putress no longer faced Liam's cage; having motioned to Keever to step closer. "Inform your Master Fanarell that he is to begin stepping up testing phases for all possible blight concoctions. Time is of the essence, and I promised both Sylvannas and her masters in charge of the Horde that we would have results."

Keever nodded and bowed low. "Keever will speak to Master Fanarell immediately, Grand Master." With that, the lanky undead hobbled out of the room.

Liam clenched his fingers around the bars. "Grand Master Putress! Answer my question. As the last request of a man about to die, you can at least honor me with a reply."

Putress paused, then slowly turned to glare at Liam. "I do not have to honor anything, paladin. Save just, one, thing." With that, the Grand Master reached into a pouch and removed a crystal vial filled with a black substance. Whirling, the apothecary tossed the vial into the cage with the lone human female. It shattered against her body, splashing her with the black liquid that turned into a noxious vapor in moments. Before the horrified eyes of Liam and the other prisoners, the woman began to convulse and writhe, coughing and hacking as the vapor filled her senses. In seconds, she had collapsed to the floor of her cage in a rictus of pain-filled tremors, before she rolled onto her side, dead.

"Blessed Light!" Liam hissed, pulling back from the bars in alarm.

Putress turned and stared at Liam. "That potion is only meant for a localized strike. It cannot last long in the air, so you are in no danger of dying . . . yet." With a gloating chuckle, he turned and slowly stalked out of the chamber, saying as he passed through the doorway. "Rest assured, paladin, very soon, you will all be joining that unfortunate wretch!"

Liam looked away from the disappearing back of the Grand Master, staring with sympathetic distaste at the dead body of the woman across the room. Without conscious thought, he slowly lowered to one knee and folded his hands over each other in prayer. _Light Preserve us all . . . and send us a miracle to save us from this undead Hell we are in!_

.

oOoOo

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Freaja Bloodsun walked down the steps of one of the many stone bridges that spanned the ring of green ichor that flowed between the inner and outer rings of the Undercity's main level. Side-stepping the lumbering form of a zombie abomination, she quickly made her way towards a decorative archway in the stone wall across from her. which marked the entrance to the Royal Quarter.

_I may be too late,_ she told herself. _The Dark Lady herself may not have returned from her conference with Ambassador Sunsorrow . . . still, I cannot leave without at least making the attempt!_ She mounted the steps leading up to the archway, attracting the attention of a pair of undead guards flanking two, wide wooden doors built into the arch. Both moved swiftly to flank her, their swords drawn in an instant.

"Halt! Who are you, elf?" the right-side guard commanded.

Freaja merely leveled a stony gaze at the unliving corpses, but she was civil with her reply. "Let me pass, please. I seek an audience with Lady Sylvannas."

"Who of the living claims right to speak with Our Dark Lady?" the left-side guard asked.

"I do, Dame Freaja Bloodsun, and as a member of the Horde I have as much right as any who are members of our alliance," Freaja said. "Now, let me pass!"

Both guards looked at each other in silence conference. Then, bowing with respect the left-hand guard motioned towards a gap between the two doors. "You may pass, Lady Bloodsun."

Giving the guards a cursory bow, she turned her body and slipped past them, following the hallway into the gloom down to the royal chamber beyond.

_I sometimes cannot abide how this place has become. Granted, Undercity was one of the few places my family had to endure, with our dealings with the Forsaken, but lately this place reminds me too much of my own close touch with death!_ Walking along the damp stones, she shivered and thought to herself, _By all rights, I should be gone from here. Still, my conscience will not let me go. _Straightening her shoulders as she forced the dark emotions from her heart, she told herself firmly, _Somehow, I must make Lady Sylvannas listen to reason!_

Upon arriving at the entrance to the main Royal Chamber, Freaja paused and looked around the high, vaulted space that served as the Forsaken leader's main hall. Shivering, despite the warmth of the dress and robes that Deathstalker Varatos had provided her, Freaja shook her head and snorted. She stepped through the entrance and slowly made her way towards the raised dais in the center. From her viewpoint on the floor, she couldn't miss the massive form of the winged _nathrezim_ standing to one side. As if he sensed her thoughts, Varimathras turned and stared down at her. Looking like the descriptions of the demon-lords of old, with his horns, bat wings, tail and cloven hoof-feet, the dreadlord twisted his alien face downwards into a frown; watching her advance to the low steps on the far side of the dais.

_Horrible creature!_ Freaja fought down her revulsion and put on a mask of iron calm. _Focus! You aren't here to banter with Sylvannas' pet demon!_

Making her way up the steps, Freaja turned to the other figure on the dais; the cloaked and leather-clad form of Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. Standing amid a rank of floating banshee, Sylvannas Windrunner was addressing a lone undead warrior, who was presenting her with a small, shiny object. Upon reaching the wide top of the stone dais, Freaja paused when she saw the Dark Lady close her fist around the object; her pale face contorting into a rictus of deep pain and sorrow. Before Freaja could open her mouth, Sylvannas closed her eyes and canted her head back, letting out a keening wail of grief.

The eerie sound quickly faded into a rising chorus from the assembled banshee - their voices raising in a haunting melody that Freaja quickly recognized by the Thalassian words. _It is . . . a dirge,_ she thought. _For the Sin'dorei . . . no, the Highborne._ She glanced at the Dark Lady's fist. _What could that Forsaken creature given her, to make her react in such a way?_ Keeping her tongue for the moment, she stood at a respectful distance and waited while the banshee and Sylvannas gave full voice to their apparent grief.

Eventually, as the chorus died off into silence, Sylvannas dismissed the waiting undead and her floating attendants before she turned away to face the far wall of the chamber.

As the shambling Forsaken stalked past Freaja, there was the sound of something metallic striking the stone dais, making the Sin'dorei look down. With a _clink/clatter_, the object rolled to a stop near her. On reflex, Freaja knelt down and reached out, picking up the object by a fine chain. Looking closer, she could see it was a pendant of with a shimmering sapphire in its middle.

"Leave it be." Sylvannas' voice was icy-cold and sharp.

Freaja didn't let go of the pendant, but her face came up sharply, looking at the undead queen. "Why, Lady Sylvannas?" She rose and looked at the pendant again. "What does this-?"

"It is nothing! A token from a past, that no longer matters." Not turning around, Sylvannas said, "It only confirms . . . that I am the last of my family to remain, after all the accursed Scourge has done to the Highborne!"

Freaja swallowed back a sudden rise of bile, as a flash of insight came to her: _It was said when Alleria Windrunner was set to journey beyond the Dark Portal, she had a pendant made of three precious stones . . . which was melted down and remade into three new ones, that she later shared with her younger sisters!_ With a soft gasp, she looked down at the sapphire pendant. _This was one meant for one of her sisters!_

As Freaja was thinking this, Sylvannas had not moved from where she now faced. Yet the Forsaken's leader clearly could tell that Freaja had not moved. "I gave you free leave to return to your people, Dame Bloodsun. Why have you not gone? The Orb of Translocation is waiting in the ruins above."

"Because I . . . I beg an audience with you, Dark Lady." Freaja took a few steps towards Sylvannas, all while keeping a watchful eye on Varimathras as she said, "Forgive me if I speak out of place, but while you gave me leave to return to Silvermoon, I . . . I must tell you that I cannot go."

At that, Sylvannas did turn to face her. Her red eyes wide, she said, "You cannot-? For what reason holds you here?"

Steeling herself, Freaja said, "The reason is . . . it is the prisoners. The two dwarves, and the knight, Liam mac Roi."

"The human?" The massive _nathrezim_ laughed cruelly. "He is of no concern of yours. Any member of that cursed race is ever beneath the notice of any of us here."

"Ware, Dreadlord," Sylvannas snapped, glaring at Varimathras briefly, before she fixed Freaja with a hard stare. "Much as I do not care to have Varimathras speak for me, in this instance I do agree with him. The human and his companions are of no consequence or concern of yours, Dame Bloodsun. Once the order is given, the Apothecary Society will end their lives, then their remains will be put to good use in service to our people."

Shaking her head, Freaja said, "You must not kill them. Him! That human, he . . . Before we came to this place, he had sworn an oath to me, that he would see me safely to my family, in Quel'thalas."

At that, both Sylvannas and Varimathras gave her sour looks. "The word of a human dog is hardly worth keeping notice of, elf-child." the _nathrezim_ said.

"If he thought his word to you was binding, or that it would protect him and his followers in passing through these lands unharmed, then that was his folly," Sylvannas said. "None of those wretched humans ever were worthy to stand upon our home ground or give their 'word' to any of my . . . former people." She stared hard at Freaja. "Have you forgotten what they did to us, when we sought to aid them against the Scourge! You cannot expect-."

"Forgive me, but you are wrong, Dark Lady!" Freaja's voice had risen, but she quickly mastered her ire as she faced Sylvannas. "You are wrong about _this_ particular human."

"You dare to speak against Lady Sylvannas?" Varimathras gave her a scornful leer. "By what right do you-?"

"By my right of those of us whom have aided you and your Forsaken many times over!" Freaja said curtly. She looked to Sylvannas - the Banshee Queen's face turned dark with anger and her eyes were twin flares of bright crimson. Freaja knew she was pushing the former defender of Quel'thalas' temper to the limit, but she was committed to her course. "You did not allow me to explain before, but the circumstances surrounding Liam's presence - both here with me, and prior to our arrival in Lordaeron - are more complicated than it seems to be!"

At that, Varimathras laughed darkly. "I find that hard to believe. Why-!"

"Varimathras! You forget your place," Sylvannas snapped. She glared up at the dreadlord, saying, "Must I order you keep silent in my hall until you have permission to speak!"

Eyes glittering with ill-checked rage, the _nathrezim_ stared back at the undead Highborne, until he bowed his head and took a half-step backwards. "Forgive me, Dark Lady. I did not mean to be . . . uncivil."

Scowling, Sylvannas kept her eyes on Varimathras for a moment longer, then she turned back to Freaja. "You say, there are other circumstances that tie the human knight to you, and bind you to him and his given word?" When Freaja nodded, Sylvannas said, "Speak them, or else I will call up my guards and have that mongrel brought here to be executed at once!"

Drawing in a deep breath, Freaja summoned what remained of her courage. _Please, by the Eternal Sun, give me the grace to finish this!_ "My Lady, the reason why this human has so been forsworn to my protection is because of this . . . ."

As Sylvannas stood by and listened, Freaja told her of everything that had transpired. With every passing moment, the Dark Lady's face shifted from expressions of impatience to shock, from surprise to utter disgust, and finally to one of complete disbelief.

When Freaja finished with her account of the events in Shadowfang Keep, Sylvannas was almost at a loss for words.

"So, you see," Freaja said, "You cannot kill Liam or his friends, just on the sole grounds of his status as a member of the human race. I need him. The paladin has given his word, both of honor and of his own volition. I have little choice but to see his word carried out, to the end."

Sylvannas stared at the Sin'dorei paladin in silence. Her eyes were a sea of red light; glittering with undisguised, remembered-hatred against the race of men, yet also filled with angst over hearing of Freaja's former plight.

Varimathras took that moment to mutter softly, "Dark Lady . . . though hearing this, noble elf's plea for mercy is certainly commendable, has it not been your decree that he and his companions should die?" His expression turned crafty. "After all, have you so forgotten how the humans had treated you, after your fall at the hands of Arthas?"

At that, Sylvannas' face whipped around, and her hands dropped down to the handle of her powerful longbow. "You, DARE mention that name, after knowing all that bastard did to _me_?"

Before the _nathrezim_ could reply, Freaja quickly moved to stand between Sylvannas and him; her arms going wide to make the dark queen focus on her. "Dark Lady, please! What humans such as Arthas and Garithos did in the past is not excusable, but their crimes were not committed by Liam mac Roi!" Seeing the seething rage in Sylvannas' face, Freaja dared to press on, saying, "Even though his people have much to be desired for their treatment of our race - there are exceptions to the whole, and I believe Liam is one of them!"

"Bah!" Varimathras scoffed. "One human out of thousands does not atone for the wrongs mitigated by others of his infernal race!"

"Perhaps, not in your eyes, dreadlord," Freaja said, never taking her eyes off of Sylvannas. "Yet, there are others like Liam, who are different. Who have opened my eyes to a different way to see their kind." She saw the shift in Sylvannas' stance. _I am getting through to her!_ Suddenly, she remembered the pendant in her hand, and glancing at it, a memory surged to the fore in her mind. "Dark Lady, have you ever been to the human city of Stormwind?"

That made both Sylvannas and Varimathras blink. "Stormwind? I , , , no, I have never been to-."

"Then you have not seen their Valley of Heroes?" Freaja pressed on, gripping the pendant tight as she brought it up before her. "I have, and among their tributes to those that fell beyond the Dark Portal, is a statue of one of our own; your own sister, Alleria."

At that, Sylvannas sucked in a deep breath. "Alleria?"

"Yes," Freaja said. "Your sister . . . she stands in a place of high honor among those that gave their lives for the Grand Alliance. If the humans were truly untrustworthy, would they even give any honor to one who was once a part of your former people?"

Varimathras snorted. "What has that got to do-?"

"It shows that not all of the humans view my people, our people, with the same hatred and distrust as only a select few have proven, in the past!" Freaja said, now looking up at Varimathras with ill-concealed distaste. When he did not reply, she looked back to the Dark Lady, "I have seen the actions of this one human, Lady Sylvannas . . . and he shows none of the old hatred and biases of those poor, deluded few that visited such grievances on our kind in the past! At any time, he could have abandoned me to his people's leaders. To be victim to their laws, their prisons and even to an unjust death . . . but he did no such thing." She paused, then said with unwavering calm, "I may not be right in most things, Dark Lady, but in this one thing I know I am certain. Liam mac Roi is not an enemy to be killed. Not here, not now." Freaja stared at Sylvannas with a fierce, yet pleading expression. " I must ask that he be released - whole and unharmed - along with his friends, so that he may see me safely to my people."

"For what purpose, Lady Bloodsun!" Sylvannas asked. "To what end?"

Freaja ducked her head. "To the end, that I may learn who has conspired against me . . . so that justice will be done." She looked up and asked, "You would want the same, against the one who once did wrong against you, would you not?"

Sylvannas seemed to bristle at the unnamed mention of the foe from her past, though she stilled herself and looked away from the red-haired Sin'dorei for a time.

Looming above them, Varimathras looked from one woman to the other, before asking, "Dark Lady, surely you could not even begin to think of letting that human go-?"

"DREADLORD!" Sylvannas' outburst was like a sudden clap of thunder; harsh, forceful and filled with power. "I am _still_ ruler of the Forsaken!" She took one step towards Varimathras, and there was enough power and presence behind that one move to make the Dreadlord back away. "_You_ are my servant, _I_ am your master! It is by my decision as to who shall live or die in _**my**_ home." she said, her voice dripping with vile and venom. "So, do not begin to lecture me on what I may or may not DO, or I shall see such forces turned upon you!"

So cowed, Varimathras appeared to shrink as he retreated nearly to the edge of the dais. He sneered, but it was a peevish expression as he watched Sylvannas continue to stare hot, molten rivers of hatred in his direction. "My . . . my Lady, I-!" Unwilling to incur more wrath, the _nathrezim_ made a submission bow and fell silent before her.

For the longest time, all Sylvannas appeared to do was stare hard at the dreadlord; waves of anger and rage radiating off of her like the Eternal Sun itself. Then, closing her eyes as she forcefully clamped down on her rage, the former Ranger-General let out an explosive breath before she turned back to Freaja. "You honestly believe that the word of this . . . paladin, is worth upholding?"

Freaja did not waver, or retreat. "I would not defend him so fiercely, Dark Lady."

Again, Sylvannas fell silent. A heartbeat later she sighed and looked up at the ceiling of her chamber. "Once, I believed that my sister, Alleria, was the best and brightest example of your . . . of _our_ people," she said softly. Dropping her head down, she stared long into Freaja's eyes. "Yet, now I am standing before another, who is proven to be every much her equal.

"Yet, though you speak well of your own station and bearing - and for that, I cannot fault you for following the dictates of your own belief. However, by the laws of my Forsaken, and those of the Horde," Sylvannas said with some irritation, "I am compelled to deal with this human, as befits the disposition of a prisoner of war."

At that, Freaja gasped, looking up in alarm. Seeing the stern look on Sylvannas' face, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes, Dark Lady, I-."

"Still, even as a leader, I am reminded that - for all that I am and was - a leader can still know the value of mercy." Sylvannas moved closer, placing one hand on Freaja's shoulder to grip it firmly, before she stepped away to the edge of the dais. "Guards!" she called, facing the doors of the chamber. "Guards, attend me at once!"

At once, one of the guards outside appeared, bowing quickly before saying, "Yes, Dark Lady?"

"Gather your fellows and go find Apothecary Faranell," Sylvannas said. "I want the human Liam mac Roi and his dwarves brought to me; alive and unharmed. Now!"

"As you command, Dark Lady!" With that, the guard bowed and slipped out through the doors.

.

oOoOo

.

Flanked by undead warriors on either side, Liam, Rhandall and Hanna were forced to walk at a fast clip. Moving along the rim of the canals, the Forsaken were not totally cruel as they shoved the trio along, yet they did not hesitate to smack Rhandall when he tried to protest.

"Mind your tongue, dwarf!"

"Oh, I'll mind it, Knucklebones! Right after I knock yer skull off that chicken-neck bone of yers," he muttered. He scowled when that earned him another rap on the skull. Wincing, he muttered, "Oh, my Uncle's Beer Mug for an axe an' a ten second head-start."

Hanna hissed softly, "Mind yer temper, Cousin, or we may end up back in that cage!" Glancing at their escorts, she turned to Liam and asked, "Where d'ye think they're takin' us now?"

Liam said, "I do not know."

Rhandall snorted, looking sideways at the two guards on either side of him. "Whatever they're takin' us, it won't end well, that's fer certain, laddie!"

If Liam suspected anything foul, he merely kept his own council. The trio had been languishing in their cells moments before, lamenting over the words of doom given to them by Putress. Then, under a flurry of activity, Apothecary Faranell had been summoned by guards to come to their cage. There was a brief exchange between the guard's leader and Faranell, then the chief guard barked, "Take them and bring them!".

The other undead roughly removed them from the cell and brought them out, marching them out of the Apothecary Quarter at a forced pace. At the head of their column, the chief guard muttered to several guards along the way - guards who quickly fell back to allow them to pass onwards - while stalking along the ichor-filled canals of the vast underground city.

Whatever is happening, something has changed our fortunes for us, Liam thought. For better or for worse, I cannot tell, yet.

By then, the column had turned and was heading through a pair of wide doors, before descending down a long, curving tunnel that sloped away from the rest of Undercity. Here, the air took on a different atmosphere; seemingly less dank, but still all the more dim and gloomy. Eventually, the trio and their escort emerged into a large, round chamber. They were marched to the edge of a high, circular dais before the guards filed them up in a row in front of it.

"Down, Alliance scum!" The chief guard said. "Kneel before Our Dark Lady!"

Rhandall started to retort, but a quelling look from Hanna made him stop. As Liam was dropping to one knee, so they both followed suit.

From above, the sound of footsteps echoed in the air, as a trio of figures loomed on the dais above. Looking up, Liam's eyes went wide as he saw the tall forms of Lady Sylvannas, a _nathrezim_ Dreadlord and . . . Freaja.

_She is still here?_ Any further questions he might have thought were stifled when Sylvannas began speaking.

"Liam mac Roi . . . you and your companions are members of the accursed Alliance, sworn-foes of the Forsaken and, in greater scope, enemies of the Horde," she said tersely. "By the laws of warfare, you three are subject to the disposition of all prisoners of war taken under force of arms. To that end, I should have you executed."

"So, why not just do it an' get it over with, then?" Rhandall snapped, glaring at Sylvannas. "Or do yer fancy wartime laws demand yer need t'spout speeches, before we're all doomed t'die!"

"Rhandall, be quiet!" Liam said sternly. He looked back to the undead leader and dropped his head. "I ask for your pardon, Lady. My companion does not often know when to be tactful, in the presence of his betters."

Sylvannas seemed irritated, but she went on quickly, saying, "As I have witnessed in the past, your people have ever been suspect when dealing with my former race, paladin. Yet, as I am reminded just recently, that often the crimes of those no longer alive cannot - and in some ways _should_ not - be heaped upon those that have come after."

Liam blinked, then looked over at the cousins, both of whom merely shook their heads in confusion. "Forgive me, Lady, but . . . I do not see where this has any bearing-?"

"What you need to know, paladin, is that you need only answer one question." She glanced at Freaja, then back to Liam. "Did you give your word to see this woman back safely to her people?"

Liam blinked, but he quickly said, "I did, Lady Sylvannas."

"And, as a Knight of the Order, you are bound by oath to see that duty done? Even if I were to offer you free leave to return to your people, now?"

Rhandall started to speak, but Hanna elbowed him in the side, hissing at him crossly.

Liam said, "Even for that, speaking for myself, Lady Sylvannas . . . I would still see my oath-sworn word to the end."

Sighing deeply, Sylvannas closed her eyes for a moment, then she looked at Liam with an expression of profound countinence. "Then, this is my decree: Liam mac Roi, as the leader of the Foresaken, and as once Ranger-General of Quel'thalas. I charge you to uphold your given oath to Dame Freaja Bloodsun. Your freedom will be restored to you, only so that you will be allowed to leave Undercity and lands of Lordaeron, to see her safely to her people."

Shocked silence followed her words, broken only by the sound of Hanna's voice. "Does tha' mean . . . we're all free t'go?"

From where she stood on the dais, Freaja nodded once.

Sylvannas dipped her head in agreement. "You are all free to go. Provided you will go onwards to Quel'thalas and go no where else."

Liam merely nodded. "Yes . . . yes, we shall do so, Lady Sylvannas. As best as we are able."

"Guard," Sylvannas said. "Release them. I will return all of your belongings and mounts, including any which were not already given over to my people."

The chief guard moved to comply; quickly unshackling the trio one by one. Rhandall snorted, rubbing his wrists as he rose. "Well, that's just peachy!" He would have said more, but he got a kick in the shin from his cousin. "Ow!"

"Once you are prepared, an escort will be assembled, to take you to the edge of our borders."

At that, the trio all looked up at Sylvannas. "Borders, Lady?"

Sylvannas nodded. "To reach the lands of Quel'thalas, you will be permitted leave, to go to the northeastern border and from there, into the lands beyond."

At that, Hanna glanced at Liam sharply. "Laddie, th' lands in that direction-!" She swallowed thickly. "'Tis only one other land between here an' yon Lassie's homeland!"

Liam nodded, before looking to Freaja. "The Plaguelands." He turned back to the Dark Lady. "Can we not go anywhere else, Lady? The Plaguelands are not a place to be traveled . . . lightly."

At that, Varimathras chuckled. "Do you not believe you could survive a journey across them, human?"

Freaja did Sylvannas justice, by scowling darkly at the _nathrezim_, before she said, "Liam, it is the only way. Lady Sylvannas has been more than generous with you. In permitting us passage to the border of the Plaguelands, she takes us away from the more-patrolled sections of the Hillsbrad foothills, and away from any further involvement with the Horde."

Liam was silent, then he nodded. "Yes, it is . . . more than generous." He looked up at Sylvannas and bowed low with respect. "Lady, we shall accept your escort and will depart from your lands, as quickly as we are able."

"Yes, you shall, knight. Know this as well, that you only do so under my decree and my protection," Sylvannas said. "That is only good for this once. Should you or your companions ever return to my lands again . . . there will not be a second reprieve."

"That is most understood, Lady." Liam bowed again, before looking up at Freaja; who was now standing there with and expression of relief on her face. _I do not know what has caused this change of heart in her,_ he thought. _Yet, I feel we all have you to thank for it, my Lady._

As if she could hear his thoughts, Freaja looked down at him and - with a hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth - she silently nodded.

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	20. Chapter 20

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"The Blessed Light : Book Two"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2011**

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_**DISCLAIMER**__ : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.

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Twenty

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On the road, once again . . . .

_Past the town known as Brill, a path wound its way out towards the far hills beyond Hillsbrad and Lordaeron. It would eventually lead into the very heart of the once-proud human kingdom - now a desolate and haunted part of Azeroth, known to all as the Plaguelands. There were not many whom would actively seek to travel this road; save those with purposes suited to the diseased and twisted forms that lurked within its borders, or those souls that were foolish enough to believe they could survive the journey and emerge unscathed._

_Yet, for one human, one blood elf and a pair of argumentative dwarves, it could be said that none of them were twisted or foolish . . . however, it was to this path that they found they had to travel. Or else._

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The captain of the Banshee Queen's guard looked down at the assembled company of his men. They were making short work of unloading the small amount of supplies from their armored wagon, before loading them onto the simple buckboard box wagon that his four, unusual charges would be taking.

_Darkness Knows why we must do this,_ he thought to himself. _Yet, who am I to question our Dark Lady's judgment?_

Ever since the command had been given by their Dark Lady, Sylvannas Windrunner, the compliment of guards had quickly escorted the human paladin, his two dwarven companions and the Blood Elf lady Freaja Bloodsun back to the surface above the Undercity. From there, the mounts, armor and wagon that had been seized from the former prisoners were returned to them, while the Captain - under his own council - kept their weapons with the promise of returning them, once they were well and away from the Forsaken holdings.

"Captain, is there nothing we can do about this?" one of his men asked. Glaring at the foursome, the guardsman had hissed under his breath. "Surely, we dare not let these living scum go free?"

The Captain merely shrugged. "Do you wish to go against the command of our Dark Lady, soldier?" When the guardsman looked paler that usual in response, the Captain slapped him on the shoulder and muttered, "Then, do as you are commanded." He turned and barked to the rest of his company. "Get those wagons ready! We move out at once!"

The trip out of Undercity had been blessedly brief; with the armed, undead escort leading the four travelers out quickly and setting them fast onto the road eastward. Barely any time passed, before the Forsaken, Liam and his companions found themselves upon the far side of a massive, gate-like stonework that was simply called 'The Bullwark'.

From there, the undead began the transfer of supplies, while the captain in charge looked down at the dismounted company.

Liam, Freaja, Rhandall and Hanna, while all standing in a line, waited while watching the guardsmen work. The Captain could see they had been keen to get going since being pardoned by Sylvannas, but the Banshee Queen had been quick to remind them of her condition of this being a once-and-only offer of mercy. _Sylvannas only knows why these living sacks of meat are being allowed to leave, unchallenged and unchanged,_ the rotting guardsman thought. _Then again . . . it is not my place to question the actions of my Dark Lady_.

One of his lieutenants shambled up to the side of his skeletal horse. "Captain, the supplies and mounts are all prepared for these mortals, as the Dark Lady ordered."

With a nod to his subordinate, the Captain snorted. "See that their weapons are also restored to them." Tugging at the reins of his dreadmount, he wheeled his mount around to face the lone Sin'dorei woman among the foursome. "The border of our Dark Lady's lands ends here, Lady Bloodsun," he said. "If you keep to the road and stop for nothing, you will eventually reach the passage through to the Ghostlands. From there you will easily reach your people's village of Tranquillien."

Freaja gave him a formal salute. "Please convey my thanks to Lady Sylvannas, Captain. Tell her that we will make all haste to reach my people's lands."

The decayed face of the Captain looked grim, but without flesh it was hard to tell if he smiled. Yet, his tone was not dark or sinister as he cautioned, "Be wary in your travels. The Plaguelands are still rife with the remnants of the Scourge, and even this far removed, the Scourge still hold some sway over those territories." With a slow bow, the Captain backed his mount away, before turning to his assembled company. "Safe travels, Lady Bloodsun . . . Warriors! We return to the Undercity!"

With that, the Forsaken turned with their Captain and set off back down the road at a quick pace; leaving the recently-freed company alone on the dusty road . . . .

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oOoOo

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Letting out a deep sigh, Rhandall shook his head. "An' good riddance t'ye, too." He snorted, just before his cousin Hanna cuffed him. "Ow!"

"Yer always a bastion of tact, aren't ye Rhan?" Hanna growled.

"What! Ye certainly would be thinkin' th' same, Hanna!"

"Aye, but at least I know when t'keep my gob shut. E'en in un-polite company."

"For once, I must agree with your cousin." Freaja stepped past the two and moved to help unhitch Liam's spotted sabercat mount from the back of the wagon. "As it stands, Lady Sylvannas gave us free leave to go from these lands, so we'd better be quick about it."

Liam nodded, moving to the side of the wagon. "Lady Freaja is right. We should be gone before a Forsaken patrol - one who has not heard their Dark Lady's decree - decides to capture us again."

At that, the two dwarves quickly moved to check the wagon. "Well!" Rhandall muttered, seeing the dark look Hanna shot him. "Can't a man e'en speak his mind at times?"

"Oh, just soak yer head, Cousin. Help me get th' ram hitched."

With a soft chuckle, Liam quickly swung himself onto his 'cat; looking down at Freaja, who was still standing at the back of the wagon bed. The red-haired elf woman had removed a rather wicked-looking sword from the back of the wagon - a curved Sin'dorei warblade that the Undercity guards had supplied her with. As he watched, she hefted the sword, clearly getting a feel for its weight, before she moved to sheath it in the holding straps at her back.

_Well, one of Sylvannas' people had to have shown her how to wield it._ he reasoned. _Small wonder, since the place we must cross is clearly dangerous, to any of us._ "My Lady?" he asked, before reaching down with one hand towards her as she turned around. "You will ride with me."

Freaja blinked. "Oh? I am capable of riding with your-."

"Yes, but _we_ should ride together," Liam explained. "I'll need to scout the road, and I will need your knowledge of the lands of Quel'thalas to show us where to go when we've left the Plaguelands behind." He gave her an apologetic look. "I cannot hear you from the buckboard seat while we ride fast, hm?"

Freaja nodded, an brief expression of unease flickering across her face, before she schooled herself. "Ah, I see. Well . . . we've little choice then, do we, Knight?"

"No, Lady, I am afraid not."

With that, she reached up and took hold of his offered hand, letting him draw her up and over, settling her sideways on the saddle in front of him.

"Are you prepared, my Lady?" Liam asked; his face wearing an expression of patient amusement.

"A moment, please." Freaja looked more uneasy, as she tried to find a place to put her hands and, eventually she gripped one side of the sabercat saddle's pommel while using her other hand to brace against Liam's chest. This kept her from moving too much as the big cat-mount padded around the wagon - getting used to the weight of two riders.

_I'm not unused to riding this way,_ she told herself. _My brother and I did this many times . . . yet-!_ She glanced left, seeing how close Liam's plate-and-leather chest piece was to her face. That alone was just a bit more unsettling, especially when she looked up to see Liam's calm gaze regarding her. _He clearly sees how this . . . proximity affects me. Oh! Impossible human_! Holding her head up, Freaja stared back at him with a level gaze. "Are you ready, Knight?"

Liam nodded, then he said to Rhandall and Hanna, "Follow behind us, and keep watch. Once inside the Western lands ahead, we will no doubt attract the attention of the Scourge."

"Aye, not t'mention any of the Horde that might be around," Hanna said.

"Very well," Liam nudged Sabine, making the 'cat lurch forwards. "Follow, for now, we ride for Quel'thalas!"

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oOoOo

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Thanks to Liam and Freaja riding in the point-position, they made as good a time across the Western Plaguelands as could be done. For the most part, the journey across the Plaguelands was as eventful as any journey the foursome had taken before . . . save for the fact of dodging and outrunning several clusters of mindless undead and demon-touched beasts that cropped up along the route.

It was upon reaching the Eastern section, that things turned a bit sour.

The party had only just crossed through a segment of hill country, which was lead through an area that appeared devastated and barren, when Hanna happened to glance upwards. "By Bronbor's Baldric!" she gasped. "What in th' world is that!"

The others followed her fear-touched gaze, finding the object of her discovery was a massive, floating structure in the sky. Looking like an ancient pyramid, it slowly turned above the face of the retreating mountains, revealing its dark stonework to them in the dim daylight.

"Blessed Sun!" Freaja whispered. "What, is, it?"

Liam's face was pinched, his dark brows meeting over his blue eyes as he scowled. "That, my Lady . . . is called a necropolis. A floating monument, created by necromancy."

"Aye, but what is it doin' out here, Lad?" Rhandall asked. "Not that it doesn't seem out o' place or nothin' . . . bein' as where we currently are-!"

"I heard from my history teachings, that those structures were part of the Scourge," Liam said. "Bastions for his armies to wage their destructive battles against the living world." He hitched his shoulders and grunted. "The appearance of one in this place, has me concerned."

"Why is that?" Freaja asked.

Liam turned his mount a bit towards the East, pointing with one armored finger. "There, lies the location of Light's Hope; a place where once the Argent Dawn mounted an effort to stem the tide of the Scourge from spreading into Quel'thalas and beyond. If a fortress of the Scourge is here, then there is something here that the undead still desire to either possess . . . or see destroyed."

Shivering, Freaja muttered, "It could be Arthas."

Liam looked down at her, a sharp expression on his face.

She caught his gaze and said, "He may have sacked my homeland, but there may be other things that bastard is seeking in this . . . cursed land." She shook her head. "Frankly, I care not what that undead cur is looking for . . . but I do care that we are tarrying over-long in this place, Knight. We should press on."

Rhandall said, "I agree wi' th' elf, Lad. We're bound t'get th' attention of somethin' just standin' out here, like a quartet of boobies!"

With a nod, Liam wrapped the reins of his 'cat tight around his fist. With a kick to Sabine's ribs, he urged the mount forwards, with the dwarves wagon following behind. They barely got a dragon's length along the road . . . and suddenly, an arc of strange energy reached out and snagged Rhandall; lifting him bodily with a roar from the front bench of the wagon!

"Rhan?" Hanna jerked the reins of the ram, making them skitter to a halt. She was half twisted around - reaching for her rifle - and watching with helpless horror, as her cousin's body bounced against the ground and rolled to stop against a dead stump.

Whipping around, Liam swung down off of his 'cat, tossing the reins to Freaja as he drew his greatsword. "Stay with Sabine, Freaja!" He was charging back to the wagon, saying quick prayers for bolstering his strength and endurance, before the Sin'dorei woman could cry out in protest.

By then, Hanna had vaulted down off of the wagon; her heavy rifle primed and held before her as she stumbled towards her fallen cousin. "Rhan! Get up, you blasted hill-dwarf! Ye-!"

Her cries were cut off, just as an unearthly, neighing sound split the air. Followed by the sound of thundering hooves, the trees behind the fallen dwarf parted . . . and a massive, eerie-looking warhorse emerged in to view, carrying a figure in gleaming blue and black armor on its back. Towering in the saddle, this being had the length of a rune-imbedded longsword drawn and held out to the side. It stared down at Rhandall's body with an air of contempt; a pair of glowing blue-white eyes peered out from the depths of its horned helm.

Liam never broke stride, but inside his mind, one word seemed to freeze into the forefront of his awareness: _Death Knight!_

By then, Hanna had gained the distance between herself and Rhandall, and now leveled her weapon at the ebony-hued visage behind her cousin. "Back, ye devil!" With that, she pulled the trigger, sending an adamantine slug rocketing towards the death knight's head. The black rider merely twisted, avoiding the deadly bullet, before it pointed one armored fist at the dwarf woman. At once, another burst of arcane energy arced outwards; slamming into Hanna and pitching her body to the side with a cry of pain.

"Hanna!" Liam was at her side in two strides, his own prayer of healing past his lips before he'd skidded to a stop. The dwarf woman was dazed, but did not look grievously injured. _Thank the Light!_ Liam touched her shoulder, letting the healing energies flow into Hanna, before he turned to look for Rhandall and the death knight.

It was a moment that nearly made him freeze; the black-clad knight was bearing down on Freaja - the Sin'dorei woman having maneuvered the 'cat mount to stand in between the fallen dwarf hunter and the unholy being. Freaja was fumbling for her sword, but the knight cast another bolt of sick-looking energy at her, making her duck down and drop her sword next to the wagon.

"FREAJA!" Liam surged to his feet and charged, all the effort in his body driving him towards the tableau before him. By then, Freaja had slipped off the 'cat - which quickly darted away to avoid the slashing hooves of the death-charger - and had backed her way to where Rhandall was still laying on the ground. Unable to draw her weapon for the sheer terror gripping her, she stood no chance against the armored foe above her; the death-knight having lifted their broadsword to bring it crashing down on her.

With a last burst of desperate speed, Liam scuttled around the side of the death-knight's mount, getting in front of Freaja - who had ducked down at the last second, just before the gleaming, ebony sword was coming towards her head. Liam parried, his own greatsword just barely holding back the blow as the full weight of the death-knight pressed the blade hard against his. Grunting with the effort, Liam held the wicked, sharp blade at bay for several moments. Then, with a savage roar he shoved it back, making the mounted death-knight nearly fall off of their otherworldly horse. The black armored warrior recovered quickly, slashing back at Liam with enough force to cut an ogre in half.

Freaja stood in a half-crouched position over Rhandall, watching as both Liam and the death-knight traded blows back and forth. The sound of steel ringing loud over the blasted landscape, as neither fighter gave up or gave out. Eventually, Liam managed to entangle the long, rune-carved blade and sent it spinning out of the death-knight's grasp, to land point down in a patch of black earth.

"Enough!" Liam snapped, bringing his sword around to point it at the now-unarmed unholy creature. "Yield, or I will see you undone upon this wasted ground!"

The death-knight glared back at him, clearly prepared to summon the undead power within themselves . . . but then, much to Liam and Freaja's surprise, they paused. Leaning forwards a bit, the death-knight's eyes peered out from the darkness inside its helm, before it drew back as if struck.

Puzzled, Liam let the point of his greatsword drop a bit. "Do you yield, Knight?"

The death-knight was silent for several heartbeats . . . then, it slowly backed its death-charger away from them, before it moved further away. The death-knight reached down, pulled its sword from the ground and turned the unliving mount beneath it, making a wide circle around the pair.

Freaja slowly rose to stand next to her savior. "What did you do to make it stop, Liam?" she asked.

Before he could answer, the death-knight stopped and stared hard at them. The eyes inside the open visor of its helm were now wide and bright with a fire that chilled both paladin and blood elf to the core.

Then, it spoke just one word: "Mac Roi!"

That made Liam snap his head back, as if struck. _This . . . being, knows my name?_ He started to speak once again, but once more he never got the chance. With a thundering of hoof-beats, the death-knight raced towards the trees and vanished from sight; nearly running over Hanna, who was just getting to her feet as they barreled past her.

Letting his sword drop to the dirt, Liam shook his head. "Strange . . . ."

"What?" Freaja asked.

"I . . . I think, that death-knight . . . knew who I was," Liam said softly. "They said my family name."

"Why?" Freaja asked. "Why would such a-?" She stopped when she heard Rhandall groan, turning in time to see the doughty dwarf roll onto his side. "Liam, your friend!" The mystery of the death-knight forgotten for the moment, both paladin and blood elf moved to Rhandall's side. "Is he-?"

"I think he was just stunned, Lady. Rhandall? Can you speak to us?"

The red-headed dwarf shook his head, trying to clearly get his bearings. "Ooooh . . . some one get th' name o' that mule what kicked me?" he mumbled.

From where she was now staggering up to the trio, Hanna said, "Same as th' one who got a piece o' me. Ugh!"

Freaja glanced at Hanna, seeing the bruises on her cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Ach, I'll live." She waved off her concern. "Just got th' wind kicked out o' me." She looked down at her cousin. "You got any new sense kicked intae yer head, Rhan?"

Struggling to get upright, Rhandall grumbled. "Bah! My head's too thick fer that! Besides, I've got enough sense already."

Liam helped get Rhandall to his feet. "Clearly, my friend, still you should've had enough sense to dodge that attack." He looked to Freaja. "Are you unharmed, my Lady?"

"None the worse, yet-." She paused, looking back towards the woods behind them all, her eyes going wide with alarm. "Liam! Behind you!"

Whirling about, Liam looked for what had attracted Freaja's attention, and he stiffened with alarm. The dwarves also lifted their eyes, taking in the sight; a motley collection of undead creatures - zombies, shamblers, corpses and abominations - were steadily advancing across the broken ground.

"Oh, spit an' buck nails!" Rhandall snarled. "Bloody Scourge!"

Hanna had the sense to look in another direction, adding, "More than just those, look!" She pointed behind herself, where another gaggle of fetid undead were stumbling with zeal towards them. "Liam, we're gonna get surrounded!"

Liam slashed his greatsword to the side, then motioned Freaja towards the wagon. "Get behind us, quickly!" he said. "Rhandall, Hanna-?"

"Aye!" Rhandall unlimbered his sword and axe. "Save th' bullets, but don' spare the poor bastards what carry them!"

Hanna drew her own axes. "This isn't gonna be pretty, lads and lassie," she said tersely. "We should'nae let this lot get over on us, an' get movin' th' first chance we can!"

"I don' think they're gonna give us a chance not to!" Rhandall snarled. "Here they come!"

Without further warning, the undead surged towards the foursome; a chorus of snarls and hisses bursting forth as hands, claws and cruel teeth reached for the living flesh that they hungered for.

Liam quickly cast a fast prayer. "_Consecration!_" The front runners of the Scourge were rocked back as the holy power rolled over them. With the undead reeling, Liam lashed out with his sword, cutting down three of them with one swing. A larger cannibal lurched into view, attempting to grab his arm, only to get a savage punch to its face; its rotten jaw shattering from the impact of the paladin's armored fist.

Both Wildhammer dwarves were fighting like mad; hacking and slashing apart each and every zombie and abomination that tried to overwhelm them. Hanna and Rhandall were beating back the flankers that were nearly on top of the wagon; blades now black with ichor and diseased blood, as they formed a protective triangle around the last member of their party.

_Great Sun!_ Freaja had her back to the side of the wagon, her heart hammering behind her ribs. Too shocked to move for fear of drawing the attention of the attacking creatures, watching in horror as the battle unfolded around her.

Suddenly, a bellow ripped through the air, as a massive shadow fell over the fighting human and his companions. Liam and the dwarves barely got the chance to look up, before a lumbering, massive body burst into the midst of the mob and knocked them aside like leaves in a windstorm. Both Hanna and Rhandall tumbled across the ground, rolling back onto their feet amid several of the Scourge that had held back from the sudden surge of the massive undead abomination now looming in their wake.

Rhandall pulled up short, put his sword away and flipped his rifle from over his shoulder. "Blast an' Scorch an' Sparks! We need tae even things up!" He started to run back to the wagon, when his eyes caught movement behind his cousin. "Hanna! Behind ye!"

The female dwarf whipped around, smashing a reeking corpse down as she spun into a throwing whip strike that pierced another through its chest. "Where's Liam!" Hanna scanned the battlefield quickly . . . and nearly stopped dead as she spied their paladin companion; just coming to his knees from where he'd fallen, still dazed and unaware of the massive abomination bearing down on him!

The grotesque creature loomed over Liam, slobbering and leering with glee at the paladin's stricken state.

Hanna shot a quick glance over her shoulder, while swiping both of her axes to keep the gangrel mob in front of her at bay. "Rhan! Liam's down, an' he's got unwanted comp'ny!"

Smashing two undead across their faces with the butt of his weapon, Rhandall whipped it around and aimed the heavy blunderbuss at the head of the putrid giant. "No ye don't, ye wretched-BLAST it!" His curse came on the heels of the dry, rasping clack of his weapon's hammer falling dead on the ignition plate. Wrapping two fingers around it, he tried to jerk it back to reset the mechanism, but it refused to budge. "Jammed!"

Trying to clear a path in the mob surrounding her, Hanna buried one axe head into a raving cannibal before reaching for her own rifle. "Liam! Look out, Lad!"

Liam struggled to get his bearings, unaware at how close death was looming at his back. He barely got to his knees, when the fetid air of the rotting zombie guard gushed over him, making him look behind in time to see the brute raise a hatchet - the size of it easily double that of Liam's whole body.

Fumbling for her rifle, Hanna was nearly swarmed by three more undead, which she beat back with a savage barrage of blows. "RHAN! HELP HIM, NOW!"

Still struggling with his jammed weapon, Rhandall bellowed and tossed the rifle aside, going for his blades again as he started to charge across the span between him at his helpless friend.

The massive zombie however was moving faster than the dwarf, as he planted one foot to pin Liam to the ground; the paladin's legs nearly crushed under the undead's massive foot. Yelling in pain, Liam yanked a dagger loose from his belt and stabbed it into the foot, but it did little to make the creature remove it.

Growling with unchecked glee, the guard pulled back further, ready to drive the hatchet down into Liam's armored body . . . only to jerk upright, stiff and gasping as if it had been struck dumb in an instant.

Rhandall skidded and nearly sent himself sprawling, shocked himself when he saw the aura of a spell wreathing the head of the massive creature. "What th'-?" Before he could complete his words, the abomination suddenly backed away from the fallen paladin, turned and moaning with fear it started running towards the trees.

Surprised as much as his friend, Liam quickly pulled himself upright. He only just got his bearings when he spied four more undead lumbering towards the ransacked wagon . . . where Freaja stood atop the overturned box-bed, alone and unarmed.

"Freaja! Look out!" Scrambling to get to his feet, Liam snagged his fallen broadsword and staggered towards the wagon. He barely took three steps, when he was shocked to his core as Freaja suddenly thrust her hands out towards the nearest zombie and - with a sudden burst of blue energy crackling around her fingertips - cast a halo of holy power at it.

Without preamble, the zombie whipped around and began running away from the blood elf woman, straight towards Liam. Out of sheer reflex, he chopped the lanky creature in two with his weapon. _She . . . cast a holy spell? How could she do that?_ Shaking off his shock, Liam watched as Freaja stooped and dropped down to the ground. From there, she unlimbered the curved, Sin'dorei warblade from behind her back. With the undead mere moments from swarming her, Freaja did not flinch. She raised both hands and brought them down, as a rolling wave of power blossomed out across the ground beneath her. With moans of pain, the zombies staggered backwards, giving her room to brandish her warblade and charge into their midst.

_Sweet merciful Light!_ Liam slowed to a halt, while the red-haired elf turned and whirled, hacking and slashing her way through the wall of unliving flesh surrounding her. With movements as sleek as a Quel'dorei sword dancer, Freaja left a grim trail of chopped-up limbs and bodies in her wake.

With the tide turned, the scattered remaining Scourge suddenly lost the desire to fight on. Those that could turned and shambled back towards the shadows among the trees. Across the way, Hanna had come to a stop next to her cousin, she watched as Freaja finished off the last few Scourge that had cornered her. "Bloody Hell!" Hanna muttered.

By then, Rhandall had recovered and unjammed his rifle, but saw little need to do much else than watch as Freaja dispatched the last undead with incredible ease. "Well, I never," he murmured, stopping to lean against the barrel of his weapon as he set the butt down into the dirt beneath him. "How in th'-? Liam! You-?"

"I'm all right," Liam called back. The paladin was now moving towards Freaja, who was finally at a standstill; the last zombie slain, her skirts thick with dark ichor and blood, as was the warblade gripped in her fists. Cautious - as well as equally impressed - Liam slowly came up alongside her, giving her enough distance so as not to appear threatening. Staring at the grim, yet keen expression on her face, he asked, "Freaja . . . my Lady, are you, all right now?"

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Freaja cast a last glance around herself - taking in the slain corpses at her feet - before she turned to look at Liam. "I am now." A shiver raced down her frame, only to be replaced by a firmness as her body seemed to draw into an iron stance. A warrior's stance.

Coming up together, Hanna and Rhandall were just as wary of this change in their traveling companion. "Great Magni's beard," Rhandall said softly. "If I hadn't seen it, I-?"

Hanna's eyes and face lit with a smile that was both humored and respectful. "I'd say yon lassie does know her way 'round a battlefield, then."

"Clearly," Liam echoed. His eyes darted down to the warblade in Freaja's hands, before they returned to her face. "Freaja . . . why did you never tell us, that you could fight? As well, that spell . . . I know it as-."

"You know it as _turning the undead_, yes," Freaja said, pausing as she looked from Liam to the dwarves, then back again without any apology in her tone. "As to why I never said I could fight? I was actually . . . afraid."

"Afraid?" Rhandall's lips pursed in a frown.

"Why would ye be afraid to tell us, lass?" Hanna asked.

Freaja closed her eyes, sighing briefly before she looked up at Liam. "Because, I feared that if you knew . . . who I really was, then you wouldn't be so quick to protect me."

At that, Rhandall snorted. "If yer gonna tell us that yer some bloody warrior princess . . ." He trailed off at the censorious look Hanna shot him.

Liam's gaze never wavered from Freaja's face. With a nod, he said, "Explain, please. Who are you, then?"

Shifting so she faced the paladin more squarely, Freaja moved the warblade so it was before her - point down in the dirt, with her hands over the hilt - before she held her chin up and said, "I am Freaja Bloodsun; daughter of Lord Oden Bloodsun, who was once an advisor of the former Council of Silvermoon City. I am Knight-Champion of the Order of the Blood-Sworn and of the kingdom of Quel'thalas."

Liam's mouth came open in shock to that last part, unable to utter a single word.

Never taking her eyes off of Liam, Freaja smiled wanly as she said, "Yes, Liam mac Roi, I am a paladin, too."

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	21. Chapter 21

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"Book One : The Blessed Light"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2011**

DISCLAIMER : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same.

This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue.

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Twenty One

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The creak of wheels rolling against the uneven surface of the path, intermixed with the off-key whistling of the dwarf Rhandall filled Freaja's pointed ears as she sat on the wooden bench-seat of the buckboard wagon. He was stomping along a good pace ahead of them, with his rifle slung across his shoulders, while His cousin Hanna sat on the wagon next to her, driving the sole ram that was pulling them along the road through the Plaguelands.

Sitting amid a cloud of bleak emotions, Freaja stared ahead of the red-haired hunter where Liam was walking next to his sabercat mount. From the stiff posture of his body, it was clear the paladin was as upset as he'd been when the resumed their northward march. Even though Rhandall was making random comments to the knight in between his whistled choruses as they walked, it was clear that nothing was getting through the dark emotional curtain that Liam had enveloped himself in.

Not for the last time in the hours since they'd resumed their trek, she sighed as a pang of regret snapped inside her chest. _All of this, just because I finally told him who I was_ . . . .

It had been after their skirmish with a congress of rabid Scourge; pride filling her as she spoke in a voice didn't waver. "Yes, Liam mac Roi," she said, standing before him, her skirts and war blade coated with undead ichor. "I am a paladin, too."

Liam had turned silent in the face of her admission, but Rhandall and Hanna weren't so afflicted.

"Ye . . . yer a paladin, Lass?" Rhandall asked, his bearded jaw dropping with the shock and awe of the moment.

Hanna recovered from her own surprise and shot Rhandall an amused smirk. "Well, from th' way she carved up yon Scourge, 'tis clear she's nae a scullery maid, that's fer certain." She nodded once with profound respect to Freaja.

Rhandall shot his cousin a droll look. "Ach, I think I'd have preferred her t'be a princess," he muttered. "This alone is just one, big, bloody surprise t'be certain!"

"I think our lassie here's just full o' surprises . . . don'cha think so, Liam?" She glanced at the tall human, only to pull back with concern. "Liam?"

Still in shock, Liam continued to lock stares with Freaja; his face an apparent mask of unreadable calm, a counter-point to Freaja's expression of worry.

"Knight?" Freaja asked. "Is there-?"

"Lady," Liam's voice had been cold and hard as an iron ingot. He then looked at the dwarves and ordered, "Let's get the wagon upright and get moving. We still have a long way before we reach Quel'Thalas."

Rhandall and Hanna were just as perplexed. "Liam, what th' devil-!"

"Did you not hear me?" Liam whirled on the dwarves, his body tense and looming as he towered over them. His fists were balled tight, and he swept his gaze from one to the other as he said, "We are still in danger from the Scourge! The longer we stay here, the worse off we can be. We need to get the wagon up and get moving!"

As he started to move away, Freaja spoke up, saying, "Knight, there is no reason to-." She closed her mouth at the icy stare he gave her in reply.

"Lady Bloodsun, I do not wish to discuss this any further," he said. "We have a job to do, and I will not see us waste any more time to see it through." With that, he turned away and stalked off to recover his mount . . . .

_Suns-sparks and Splinters,_ she told herself now, _why was this so hard to deal with? Why should he have been so . . . so angry over this, especially now?_ Liam had only ever been terse in the heat of a battle, and cross with his fellow companions, the two Wildhammer cousins . . . but he'd never been angry at _her_ before. _Perhaps that's what stings so much,_ she thought. _That he's upset over the fact I kept my rank and class from him, after all this time?_ She gave herself a little shake. _But, surely he can understand why I did that? I was in enemy lands, and at the mercy of those who were foes against my kind._

Freaja looked down at her hands, silently regarding them before she told herself, _Yet, can I really call this man - this knight - a true enemy? He has risked himself time and again to save me, even against his own people and their standing laws of war._ She folded her hands over one another and let another deep sigh slip through her lips.

Beside her on the seat, Hanna was glancing at the elf woman while she tugged at the leather straps idly. At length, she softly cleared her throat and asked, "Lassie, d'ye mind a wee bit o' advice? Woman tae woman?"

Freaja didn't look up at Hanna's query. "Hmm."

"Yer beatin' yerself all o'er an' it's nae doin' yerself any guid." She wrapped both reins around one fist before she pointed with her free hand at Liam. "Granted, I'll be th' first t'say Liam's got his head shoved too tight in his helmet, but 'tis natural t'understand his feelin'."

"Is it, really?" Freaja asked, her tone as bland as milk.

"Aye. If ye think about it." Hanna paused to tugged on the reins to guide the wagon around a dip in the road. "It's a well known fact, most men cannae abide by those who keep secrets," Hanna said gently. "An' I have tae say, wi' Liam it's a cold hard truth. Th' laddie prides himself in trustin' others. 'Tis part o' his nature."

Freaja lifted her head and frowned, looking at the shorter woman at length. "I never meant to harm that . . . well, it was never in my interest-?" She suddenly threw up her hands as frustration bubbled up over the regret festering in her heart. "Oh! Why do I care what that . . . that . . . impossible man thinks!"

Hanna let go with a mild chuckle. "Aye, Liam can be exactly that. Impossible." she said. "Still, th' laddie's really a simple person. Once ye get past all o' his paladin trappin's an' rigmarole." She eyed Freaja with a frank look. "He lives tae help others. That's his whole reason fer any an' all that he does in this mixed-up world."

Freaja stared back at Hanna. "Yet, I'm at fault for not telling him that I am a paladin, too?"

Hanna shrugged. "'Tis not fer me to say what Liam feels 'bout that. But, I canna tell ye this much, lassie, that if we knew early on what ye were . . . well, then. It might have helped us make better choices in helpin' ye get back tae yuir people."

Freaja looked away, mulling that bit of information in her head for a moment. "Yes . . . yes, I can see that now."

Hanna chuckled and gave the closest of Freaja's hands a pat. "Hindsight is always clearest, after ye get th' long-look o' things."

With a wan smile, Freaja said, "Yes, that is true." She looked across at the shorter woman and sighed. "I am truly sorry . . . for all of this trouble I've caused-."

"Ah, I dinnae hold it against ye, Lassie." Hanna smiled, but she cocked her head towards the other two walking ahead of them. "Still, 'tis not me ye need tae apologize to."

Freaja looked back to where Liam was stalking beside his feline mount, and she winced a bit. "Do I-?"

"Freaja, t'be honest wi' ye," Hanna said with a gentle-but-firm tone, "It would'nae hurt ye to swallow a lil pride. If yer worried 'bout bein' left t'fend fer yerself, don't be. Th' lad isn't gonna abandon ye. He hasn't done that yet, an' I canna tell ye he never will."

Freaja ran a hand through her long red-gold locks and blew out her cheeks. "Still . . . I don't know if I can," she admitted.

"I won't think less o' ye, e'en if ye don't do it. Though we will get ye home, it may make th' rest o' the journey better if ye settle this between yerselves." Hanna wrinkled her nose in gentle amusement. "I've had t'eat my own share o' crow now an' then. It never does sit well on yer belly, but . . . as me Mother always told me; Ye can make even th' hardest grog go down, if ye put a lil' honey in it."

Freaja arched one eyebrow at the old Dwarven homily. "Your mother, always says that?"

"Goes wi' bein' th' daughter o' a brewmaster, lassie. Ye best get used tae it, bein' we've still a long way t'go."

At that, Freaja let out a soft laugh, feeling a lot of her unease flow out of her with that simple action. "How is it I find wisdom in one of my kind's . . . enemies?"

"Clean livin', 'praps?" Hanna let out a chuckle of her own.

Shaking her head, Freaja asked, "Still, if I am to do this, how and when would be a good time?"

"No time like th' present, lassie. An' as to how . . . just leave it t'me." She gave the tall elf woman a wink, before she cleared her throat and called out. "Liam! We need tae stop fer a bit. This ram needs a wee bit o' rest."

Liam turned and looked back at them with a frown. "Are you certain, Hanna?"

On the track next to him, Rhandall turned about, scowling. "Why now? We've not got long before we're out o' these accursed Plaguelands-."

"Aye, but we're one ram shorter than when we started on this journey," Hanna said. "Ye wanna have tae pull this wagon th' rest o' the way there?"

Rhandall would have said more, but Liam cut him off, saying. "Get off the road, at least. Over there, to those trees," he said, pointing off to the side. "I'll stand over watch. Rhandall, stay with the wagon."

Rhandall grimaced. "But-? Ach! Aye, lad." He marched back towards the spot where Hanna was pulling the wagon to a stop.

Watching as Liam guided his 'cat mount towards a small rise near the road, Hanna said to Freaja under her breath, "Best get tae th' heart o' th' matter, Lassie. I'll keep my cousin from bargin' in." She made a shooing gesture, hiding it with her body as she back down off of the wagon before turning to Rhandall. "Oy, come 'round here. I think there's summat wrong wi' the rear axel."

"What?" Rhandall's expression turned grumpy and worrisome all at once, "Oh, fine thing! That axle breaks down on us, an' there's no way we'll make good time t'reach th' Elf-lands."

As he stomped past her, Freaja turned away and moved across the road. _Well, to use the words my . . . friend said once; In for a copper, in for the whole gold piece._Giving Hanna one last look over her shoulder - and getting an encouraging one in return - she faced the vexing human and continued towards him.

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When Hanna called out to rest, Liam had been brisk in his agreement. He quickly moved off to a small rise to afford himself the best view of the land around them. Standing with his back to the others, Liam swept the landscape with both eyes open, but only a half a mind taking in the desolate forest and scrub that lay before him.

On the outside, his stance and expression were neutral as frozen water. Yet, inside he couldn't stop the feelings of betrayal and resentment; feelings that for the most part were alien to his usual state of being. Still, he couldn't keep from running the one clarion fact over and over in his mind.

_Freaja Bloodsun . . . a paladin herself! Light strike me for a fool!_ he told himself. _I should have seen it before . . . yet, why keep her true identity from me?_ He seethed, flexing his hand around the hilt of his long sword. _Have I not proven myself, my word and deeds to keep her safe? Knowing what she was . . . it would have changed nothing!_

A small part of Liam's mind spoke up just then; _Would it really not have changed things, Paladin?_

_No!_ he shot back.

_Are you so certain?_ the voice asked. _For all you are protecting her, she is still a Blood Elf. A race sworn-loyal to the Orcish Horde and the sworn enemy of your own people._

Liam snorted. _I never give thought to that sort of division. Not when someone is in need._

_Ah, but she had to, hm? She was without her people, her arms and her means to survive. Even with your sworn word, she would not have survived for long had they known she was a paladin of the enemy. A soldier. She did what she felt was needed._

Liam shook his head. _But, there was no need for her to do so! I would have helped her, even if I had known-._

_But did she know this from the start?_ the voice asked. When Liam didn't answer, it continued on speaking. _No. How could she? She was still recovering from a harrowing ordeal, treated like so much wasted meat by those slavers you rescued her from. Waking up, watched by members of the races of her enemies . . . would you have been so quick to trust, if you were in her place?_

Liam remained quiet, his ire slowly ebbing as reason continued to seep through his mind.

_So,_ the voice said, _Now can you understand, Paladin? Anger towards her for keeping a small secret, is not what is needed here, now, while you are both still in hostile lands. The Light does teach forgiveness, does it not? Isn't it one of the greatest of all the virtues of that code, for which you have supported and forsworn yourself?_

_Yes . . . yes, but-?_ Liam shook himself mentally. _How am I-?_

_Talk to her. See logic and reason, speak truth and the answer will always be found,_ the voice said with a note of finality. _After all, as where there was once unspoken trust, now you must build a spoken trust between you both._

Liam would have said more, but his internal thoughts were interrupted by a soft, throat-clearing sound behind him. Swiftly turning halfway around with his hand tensing on his long sword, he froze when he saw it was Freaja standing there. "Oh," he said at length. "It is you."

Freaja arched one long eyebrow. "You were expecting your King, knight?" she asked, though the acid in her tone was somewhat lessened by degrees.

Liam tried to sound civil, but his words came out cool and indifferent as he turned back to view the landscape. "Even His Highness would be welcome in a land such as this . . . Lady."

He heard her sigh once more, before she moved up to stand directly beside him. Even with his eyes elsewhere, he could sense her presence at such proximity to himself. "Would that any presence be welcome in such a desolate land." She shifted from one foot to the other. "I had thought the devastation Arthas wrought on my own homeland was bad enough. But, to see it here on such a scale-."

"The Scourge did more ill to more than just Quel'Thalas, Lady," Liam said, trying to keep himself in further check. "Lordaeron bore the brunt, but the scars stretch long and far across these lands." He nodded towards the east, where there was a vague outline of a city in the far-off mists. "That there, is Stratholme . . . where Arthas slaughtered hundreds of innocents, where he believed they had been touched by the plague."

Freaja stepped forward a pace, nodded as she peered off towards the former city's ruin in the distance. "It is . . . a terrible thing to know such travesties were given onto more than just my people," she said, sighing before she turned to face him. "But, I am not here to recount the past history, knight."

Liam stared at her, his expression sliding into iron as he prepared for another scathing verbal assault. "Why are you here then, Lady?"

Freaja appeared to swell with indignation for the briefest of moments. Then, she briefly looked away, then down at the ground as she said, "To . . . to apologize, knight."

Liam blinked. The iron set of his features cracking a bit.

Freaja went on speaking. "I should have told you who I really was . . . back before this whole journey began. I . . . I was an enemy in your lands, knight. Even so, to keep my identity from you was wrong. I see that now." She lifted her head and stared up at him, her expression as sincere as he'd ever seen from her. "I know you are . . . upset, and I cannot take away the humiliation and pain you've suffered for my actions-."

"Lady, enough." Liam hadn't raised his voice, but the sheer emotion brought Freaja's apology to a halt. Inside his mind, Liam's thoughts whirled around the two clarion thoughts: _For all she though like your enemy, she is still willing to admit she was wrong . . . Remember your visions, Paladin. She is key to a part of your future._

Freaja's face filled immense confusion in the silence that followed Liam's soft-spoken interruption. "Knight?"

Liam finally shook himself and slowly drew up to his full height before her. crossing his arm across his chest and bowing low over his open hand in a reverent salute. "Lady, I ask for your forgiveness." Liam felt every erg of his prior anger fading with each word. "It was not for me to judge your choice, nor my place to be angry for your actions. You only did what you felt was necessary to preserve your life." He slowly rose up, staring at her with a firm countenance.

At first, Freaja blinked in the face of Liam's words. Then, she gracefully bowed in return, saying, "Your apology is accepted . . . if you will accept mine as well?"

With a wan smile, Liam said, "Accepted, gratefully, my lady."

Rising again, Freaja returned his smile briefly. "Good. It is good that we at least can reconcile, as enemies."

"I dare to say it, but we are hardly enemies, Lady."

Freaja frowned, tensing for a moment, before she willed some of the iron seep out of her tense expression and stance. "Yet, we are enemies. Your people and mine have ever had our . . . problems with-."

"That distinction is between those of both our races who can never understand the total truth of our duty, Lady." Liam sheathed his sword. "My duty has ever been, to come to the aid of anyone who is in need. No matter what race or faction they may come from. What one of my people did to the Quel'dorei in the past . . . it is something that I have never supported nor ever will condone." He added with a telling smile. "You should know by now, Lady, that I do not see friend or foe when my duty is clear."

Freaja cocked her head, her expression giving over to a wry look as she said, "Ah, I have begun to notice that." She gave a soft chuckle, before she added, "It is that aspect of you . . . I don't think I came to appreciate it, until after you came to rescue me in Shadowfang keep."

Liam nodded. "I would not be a man of my word, had I abandoned you, Lady."

Freaja smiled, then she stepped closer, making a pointed gesture with one hand as she said, "That word, noble as it has been, had better be worth the trouble yet to come, knight. After all, Quel'Thalas is not your homeland and you may have to count on my help, to see you and your friends safely out."

"That is true . . . but beyond any danger to me and my companions, my duty is to see you to your people. We shall deal with whatever circumstances arise, when the time comes." He shook his head, with a laugh as he stared back at her.

"What is so, funny, knight?" Freaja asked archly.

"It seems we share more in common, Lady, than you realize." Liam said. "Just now, you were saying you would have to protect me."

Freaja felt her cheeks flush, but she didn't back down or move away from the taller human. "Well, as a member of the Blood-Sworn, how else must I act towards someone who has aided me?"

Liam nodded. "In duty, we are bound together more than anything that our races or factions could ever understand. For that, I am humbly grateful that I did chose to help you, Lady Freaja." Extending his hand, the palm open and turned upwards, he said, "Please . . . accept my offer of friendship. As two who follow the path of Light, such a bond is not so strange to foster, hm?"

Studying his face for several moments, Freaja nodded once. Lifting one slim hand to cover his, curling her long fingers around his larger ones, she said, "I accept your kinship, paladin . . . but, you need not offer your friendship to me." She smiled at the confusion filling his face. "I accepted it long ago, when you risked your life time and again." Giving his hand a squeeze, she added, "For all of that, I can accept the truth and caliber of your word, Liam mac Roi."

Liam returned her grip, opening his mouth to speak . . . only to twist sharply, as he shouted with sudden pain.

"Liam!" Freaja tried to back away, only to gasp when he rolled his right shoulder towards her. There, between the exposed joint under his shoulder guard, emerged the barbed, metal head of a war-arrow. As she moved to help keep Liam from pitching into the dirt, she called out, "Hanna! We're under attack!"

Liam grunted with pain, craning his neck around as he swept his eyes along the trees around them. "Blast it!" He reached up and closed his fist around the exposed arrowhead. "Lady, get behind me!" He slowly dropped to one knee. "I'll need you to pull the shaft out!"

Freaja did as he asked, just as the two dwarves came rushing up to them. "Lassie! What-?"

Liam hissed as he made a sharp, jerking motion with his hand, snapping off the arrowhead and casting it away. "Attacker... archer, in the tree line." He groaned as he felt Freaja take hold of the haft of the arrow and slowly pull it free from his shoulder. Hissing with the renewed pain that blossomed from the exit of the shaft from his flesh, he added, "I couldn't see-."

"Don' worry 'bout that, Laddie! We need t'get this first!" Hanna was fumbling with her first aid pouch, getting bandages for his wound.

"I'll be all right," he said quickly. As he started to turn his eyes towards the direction the arrow had come from, he heard Freaja gasp sharply. "Lady?"

"I see something! There!" She pointed towards the trees.

Liam squinted. A flicker of movement in the brush beneath them caught his eye. "Rhandall! Hanna!"

At his word, both dwarves whirled, bringing their rifles to the ready, only to stop when six arrows - long, large-headed warshafts - slammed into the rotting soil around them in rapid succession.

"HOLD!" A high, tight voice called out from the twisted trees. "Move again, and you'll find six more of the same, where you now have eyes!"

Liam stopped moving when the warning had been given, but his senses oriented towards the direction of the attacker's voice. _A lone hunter? A scout, perhaps?_ Even as dangerous as it was, he moved his body half-way in front of Freaja, clearly intent on protecting her unarmored form. Another shaft whizzed by his ear.

"I said DON'T MOVE, human! Drop your weapons now, and stay still!"

"It's yer call, lad," Rhandall said. "D'we fight or run fer it?"

Looking at Freaja, seeing her shake her head, he decided quickly. "Do as they command. We do not know how many attackers are out there."

"Baaah, numbers nae matter t'me, Liam!" Rhandall shouted to the trees. "Come out, ye black devil! Try puttin' those clothyard toothpicks intae me, when I can see ye pullin' those strings!"

A spate of laughter - clearly coming from more than one voice - filtered out from the trees. "Had I wished to, I could have easily killed you before you even had the first inkling you were in trouble, Round-Belly!"

Rhandall barked with a scornful laugh. "Fine thing, an' damn easy t'say . . . when yer shootin' from th' shadows an' not starin' yer foe, eye t'eye!"

There was silence, then the voice replied, filled with icy venom, "If you wish to see who has bettered you, dwarf . . . Hesh'da me'thras!" At once, a lot of movement in the trees quickly resolved into a cluster of figures - all tall, male Sin'dorei; armored, kilted and bearing the long shield and double-bladed glaive of a warrior-elite.

At that Liam nodded, and said to the others, "Do as they command. Weapons down." He drew out his long sword and dropped it to the ground.

Muttering under his breath as he and Hanna did likewise with their rifles, Rhandall said, "Swell! Bloodly swell! We aren't e'en at th' edge o' these blasted lands, an' we find yon Lassie's people!'

"More like they found us, Cousin." Hanna whispered back, looking on as the six Blood Elves began to troop across the sward towards them. "But these are warriors. I dinnae see any bows on them."

Trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder, Liam asked Freaja, "My Lady, do you recognize where these soldiers come from?"

Freaja nodded. "Yes, but . . . this is not right!" She glanced briefly at Liam to explain, "They bear arms and armor of the garrison forces of Silvermoon City. Such guardians are mean only to patrol and guard the lands of my people. They aren't meant to be so far removed from them!"

"Might they be an advance patrol from your furthest holdings?" Liam asked quickly.

"Tranquillien in the Ghostlands is the farthest, but that is still many more miles to the north!" Freaja stopped speaking as the line of Sin'dorei drew up to within a few sword lengths from them; spreading out to form a loose ring around the foursome. A fair number of the elves were glaring at Liam and the dwarves; their glowing, fel-green eyes flicking back and forth as they sized them up.

Hanna shot Liam a look. "Well, what now?"

Liam started to speak, but suddenly, three of Sin'dorei surged forwards shoved him and the dwarves away from Freaja. Taken by surprise, Liam and the cousins were forced roughly to their knees. Several of the Sin'dorei armsmen were actively shoving and smacking Liam, Rhandall and Hanna with the flat portion of their glaives; laughing and jostling them as they surrounded the trio completely.

"W-wait! Stop!" Freaja tried to move past the armsmen, but two moved to block her path. "Leave them alone! They were protecting me," she said.

One of the guardians turned and stared hard at her. "Hold your tongue, girl! You are just fortunate we found you before these . . . Alliance dogs did something unsavory to you!"

Freaja turned angry. "How dare you-!"

"They dare much, to protect you!" said the speaker that had challenged them from the trees, coming from behind the taller armsmen. "Aside! Let me through,"

At once, the armsmen parted, allowing the speaker to appear before Freaja. It was a lone blood elf female - slender, wrapped in the dark leathers of a Ranger. Her face was hidden by the hood of her long cloak, while she carried a hunting bow at the ready. A reddish-furred Springpaw lynx prowled silently at her side. The woman stepped up within arm's reach of Freaja, before she drew a slender long sword and dagger from her belt.

Freaja turned to face this newcomer, her body rigid with anger. "You fools!"

"I'd say you are either very foolish or very stupid, if you traveled far with these Alliance dogs, kinswoman." the ranger said, thrusting a thumb towards her chest. "We protect our own in these blasted lands, and far better than this scum!" She aimed a kick at Rhandall, making him grunt with pain.

Freaja squared her shoulders before saying, "I would ask where you were, then . . . while _they_ were keeping _me_ from being killed by those wretched Scourge?" She glared at each armsman in turn. "We were attacked no so long ago. Have you been watching us all this time?"

"Maybe we have, why should it matter?"

While the two women traded barbs, Rhandall and Hanna both shared guarded looks with Liam. "Ye'd think Lassie would be happier t'see her own people," Hanna muttered.

Liam whispered, "I do not think . . . the ranger is one of Freaja's people, in a figurative sense, Hanna."

Freaja was now clearly enraged, snarling at the Ranger as she asked, "Did you not think to help us, if that is the case? The Scourge almost had us in their teeth!"

"Bah," the Ranger said. "You should be thankful we're here now." Her tone was echoed by murmurs from the other Sin'dorei. "Besides, haven't we proven ourselves, by eagerly coming to your aid now, Girl?"

Freaja moved closer as she faced the slightly-shorter elf. "Perhaps you wouldn't have been so eager, if you had known that I didn't need your unnecessary aid, Ranger!" she said sharply. "And since when has it been decreed that a Farstrider leads the Guardians of Silvermoon? Have the ranks of the Rangers grown so idle, they must take on extra roles to slake their desire to be the best of all of us?"

At that, the laughter died.

Liam tensed. _This does not bode well! he thought._

"Who, are you, to be speaking like that to me?" the leather-clad elf woman asked.

Freaja stared back with a fierce expression. "I am who I am, Ranger! Your actions are more damning than my words! Firing on someone who is under the protection of the Order of the Blood Sworn, without confirming who I was prior?" She snorted. "Ranger-General Brightwing will certainly hear about this, when I return to our city!"

One of the guards shifted, bringing the point of his glaive towards Freaja. "How can we be certain you are one of the Blood Knights, woman? You dress and sound like one of those misbegotten currs of the Highborne, who serve the Alliance," he said.

At that, Rhandall muttered softly, "Ach, ye should'nae said that,"

Bristling, Freaja drew herself up proudly. "I am a marshaled Champion of Lady Liadrin's Order of the Blood Sworn! Though I lack my proper attire and my _ranseur_, can you not see the way I carry my honor, warrior! Or should my name be sufficient for your doubts?"

The Ranger stepped closer, one hand flexing around the hilt of the long sword she carried. "Answer the question then, O' Knight. What, is, your, name?"

Freaja simply stared at the bow-wielding elf; her voice growing in anger and volume as she spoke hard and fast: "I am Knight-Champion Freaja Bloodsun!" Striding up to the woman, she glared and said, "I find it sickening that my own countrymen would be reduced to the level of pack animals . . . especially where the treatment of to honorable people who have protected one of Silvermoon's champions is concerned!"

The moment she stopped speaking, it was clear to Liam and the dwarves, from the expressions on the face of the Ranger, that they recognized her name. "Blessed . . . Sun! _Capasia_!"

With a sudden move that surprised even Liam, every last Guardian swiftly dropped to one knee, ducking their heads as they faced Freaja. The leather-clad elf followed suit, but she was quickly back on her feet as she faced Freaja with a more respectful air. "Knight-Champion, forgive me, I-. We did not know-."

"Clearly not." Freaja did not lose one jot of her icy tone. "Now, you will give me your name, so I may know whom to report to the Ranger-General for this lack of thinking on your part."

At that, the female bowman reached up and removed her hood, revealing a sun-yellow hair covered head, staring back with a face that was touched with crimson on her cheeks.

Upon seeing this, Freaja blinked and gasped softly. "No . . . Kymeria!"

Lifting downcast eyes, while her lips twisted in a wry, embarrassed smirk, Kymeria Dayrunner said, "It's good to see you too, Freaja." She then looked sternly at Freaja before she nodded to the armsmen flanking her.

Before Freaja could reply, or even think, two of the armsmen stepped in close and seized her by the arms. "What!"

Kymeria said, a hint of sadness in her voice, "It almost pains me to do this, but my duty is clear. Freaja Bloodsun, you are under arrest, for high treason against your people, the City of Silvermoon and the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas."

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	22. Chapter 22

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"Book One : The Blessed Light"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2011**

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._  
.

oOoOo

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Twenty Two

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Kymeria Dawnrunner stared hard at the red-haired woman the Sin'dorei armsmen held tightly by the arms. Her fingers flexed around the handle of her long sword, as the former veneer of respect fell away, revealing the look of ire and disgust on her elfin face. Watching as shock rolled across Freaja's face, Kymeria said sternly, "Freaja Bloodsun, you are under arrest, for high treason against your people, the City of Silvermoon and the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas."

"What!" Freaja stood stunned, before she squirmed in the grip of the two armsmen flanking her. "How-?" She cut herself off, "You have no right to do this!"

"No right!" The fair-haired woman glanced at the other three as she stood within an arms length of the now-captive Sin'dorei paladin. The rest of her company of armsmen held the dwarves and the human at bay, and with Freaja restrained, she felt enough at ease to vent her disgust. "As a member of the Farstriders, I am bound to uphold all standing orders issued by our Ranger-General. Especially those concerning traitors to our people."

Struggling against the hands that held her fast, Freaja glared at Kymeria. "I am NO traitor! Not to my people, nor to my Order or the kingdom we stand for," she said.

"From the company you keep, I would dare to say THAT is completely suspect." She glanced with an almost negligible air at the trio behind her; kneeling with their hands held behind their heads. It was clear the russet-haired paladin and his companions were clearly upset at the sudden shift of attitude towards her countrywoman. "Traveling with members of our sworn enemy doesn't speak well in your defense!"

"If you would let me explain-!"

"It's too late for that, Freaja," Kymeria said, cutting her off harshly. Stepping in closer, she hissed a sharp whisper into Freaja's ear. "Far too late for the caravan leader and his people." Shaking her head, the Blood Elf Farstrider frowned as she added, "All dead. Thanks to you."

Freaja's face twisted with indignation, lurching forward against the grip of the two Sin'dorei armsmen holding her arms firmly at her sides. "It was not my fault for their deaths! We were attacked-!"

"That is not for me to judge. Orders are what they are. You're to be taken under arms and returned to Silvermoon as soon as you were found." Kymeria started to turn away, but the next words out of Freaja's mouth stopped her.

"Why are you doing this, Kymi! I thought we were friends!"

Kymeria turned slowly and stared hard into Freaja's eyes. "Friends? Friends!" She faced Freaja and stepped up until she stood practically nose to nose with her. "What 'friend' precipitates the death of nearly a double-score of our kinsmen? Especially when there are so FEW Sin'dorei left in the whole world?" What kind of a 'friend' then disappears and turns up, weeks later; alive and in the company of Alliance scum?" She thrust an accusing finger at Liam and the dwarves.

"I had no choice, but to trust them. Else I would not be alive today." Freaja tried to calm herself in the face of Kymeria's anger. "If you would only-!"

"No! I've heard enough!" Kymeria seethed. She made a curt, cutting motion with one hand. "Sergeant! Form ranks on the prisoner. We march for Silvermoon at once."

The armsman she addressed nodded. "Understood, but . . . what about them?" he asked, pointing towards Liam, Rhandall and Hanna.

Kymeria didn't even spare the trio a look, as she turned and whistled to her lynx-cat before stalking towards the trees. "Kill them. We waste time to see justice done in our homeland."

"As you so order," the armsman said. He turned to speak to his fellows, while unlimbering his double-bladed glaive.

Kymeria continued to walk away, her back now to the prisoners as she moved to meet her hunting companion. She barely got six steps further . . . and then everything went to the cook fire in an instant!

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oOoOo

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From the sudden change in the attitude of her kinswoman, Liam realized that their lives were once again in jeopardy. Light, lend us your strength! he thought, before he turned to look at both Rhandall and Hanna. The cousins were attentive, as ever, and they quickly got the gist of his silent glances.

As the armsmen were preparing to deal with them, Liam had flashed Freaja a single that one look, his intent was clearly communicated to her - Be ready!

Freaja's face went from fearful to calm, then to absolute ice in a heartbeat. Nodding, she went lax in the grasp of her two captors.

The four armsmen surrounding them had their glaives drawn, with their lead armsman moving to stand in front of Liam to make the first strike. "Die and suffer well-AAHK!" His words were cut off as Liam suddenly burst upwards from his kneeling position; snapping one savage kick at the Sin'dorei's left knee before following with a metal-shod punch to his face.

At that moment, Rhandall and Hanna both whirled about and threw their legs at the two armamen flanking them. The move tripped the armsmen and send them crashing to the ground, whereupon both dwarves pounced on them and began to pummel them.

The other two armsmen holding Freaja turned their heads at the first sound of fighting. They paid dearly for that, as Freaja quickly twisted about and aimed a harsh kick at both shin and the back of the knees. Tumbling, they lost their grip on her arms, and she chopped two more blows against their necks.

Before the last standing armsman could act, Liam had turned and unlimbered his shield and made a hurling motion with it. A glowing disk of holy light emerged and rocketed towards the hapless Sin'dorei; smashing him backwards and stunning him for a few moments.

By then, Liam heard the voice of Kymeria shouting, "K'yla! Attack!" Turning, he watched her turn and reach for her long bow, while her hunting cat charged towards them with fangs bared. Aiming a last punch at the first armsman as he tired to rise, Liam called out, "Hanna!"

The red-haired dwarf woman boxed her foe twice more, before raising two fingers to her lips to blow a piercing whistle. "Skott! Have at 'em boy!"

Before the lynx-cat got a hand-span closer to them, a dark-furred nightsaber boiled out of the brush nearby, leaping into its path, growling with menace. Ther was a beat, then both 'saber and lynx came together in a sudden flurry of claws, fur and fangs.

By then, Liam got his shield up, moving to protect Freaja as Kymeria had her bow knocked and ready to fire . . . but she barely got one arrow off before a short, compact cannonball of leather and mail-clad dwarf slammed into her side.

Liam's shield deflected the arrow, before he turned and made short work of the two armsmen that were still staggering nearby. Two, swift blows, and they joined their companions on the ground.

He then faced Freaja, asking quickly, "Are you hurt, Lady?"

"No, knight!" Freaja said, breathing harshly. "Just . . . my pride! What about-?" She stopped, looking around at the scene of the quick and dirty battle. All six armsmen were either out cold or incapacitated. Hanna had the sense to quickly scoop up and fling away several of the glaives, and was now standing over the trio nearest to her; her sword and axe at the ready.

Liam sucked in a chest-full of air, before he let it out with a relieved breath. Turning back to face the Farstrider, he saw her sprawling in the dirt; her bow and sword scattered far from her grasp, while a very fierce-looking Rhandall stood above her with one booted foot planted on her middle. "Rhandall?"

"Ach, I'm fine, laddie!" Rhandall shot back, before he glared down at Kymeria, who was struggling to rise from underneath him. With a grunt, he pushed down with all of his weight on his one leg, driving the air out of the Farstrider with a pain-filled gasp. "I would STAY STILL, if I were ye, lass. Else ye'll find my other boot in yer-!"

"Rhandall! Enough!" Liam said sharply. He moved to recover his sword, before scooping up both Hanna and Rhandall's rifles and tossing one to her. "Hanna, start herding these warriors together." He stalked towards the downed Farstrider, handing Rhandall his weapon before motioning to Freaja to join him. "Rhandall, go with your cousin and guard them."

Letting up with his foot on Kymeria's middle, Rhandall grunted and quickly cocked his rifle. "Aye, but what 'bout her?" he asked, nodding to the blond elf woman.

Liam stood over Kymeria, his sword pointed down at her throat when she tried to rise. "I believe, my Lady and I will have . . . a discussion with her. It seems there is much that needs to be made clear here." He glanced at Freaja. "Would you agree, Lady?"

Freaja nodded, her face a firm countenance as she looked down at Kymeria. "Yes, knight . . . there is much that needs to be made clear here!" She crossed her arms and stuck her chin out proudly.

Liam couldn't suppress the small grin that filled his face. "Indeed, my Lady. Indeed."

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oOoOo

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A short time later, Rhandall and Hanna found themselves amid a rather unusual setting: seated before a hastily-made campfire, weapons held at the ready before the six, now-complacent Sin'dorei armsmen. While not too unkindly bound, the armsmen were clearly uncomfortable, having to kneel in the dirt while the dwarves stood watch over them.

"Now then, lads," Rhandall said smugly, "we'll just cool our heels, whilst yon lassie gets her 'friend' on th' same page as th' rest o' us."

"Meantime," Hanna added, keeping her rifle at the ready, "all o' ye best mind yer manners. Else we may have tae apologize t'yer people for any further . . . misunderstandin's, hm?"

Some distance away, Both Freaja and Liam were facing their former-captor near a small, banked fire set up between two fallen trees. The Farstrider had been bound with both arms tied to a long branch, draped across her shoulders with a length of rope securing the whole affair to her neck. Kneeling, Kymeria looked up at both paladins with the blackest of looks.

"Now," Liam sighed, trying to keep a firm grip on his patience, while he flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sheathed longsword. "We shall try this again." In the moments since turning the tables on Kymeria and her armsmen, with some prompting from Freaja, Liam had attempted to make the blond-haired ranger listen to them. What he got, in turns, were moments of stone-cutting silence and other spates of venom-edged, vicious words that promised all sorts of sundry against them - should Kymeria ever get the upper hand again.

"Liam, stop." Freaja said, scowling if with a touch of sympathy towards the bound elf woman. "We'll get no where, when she's like this."

Liam looked at Freaja, arching one eyebrow.

"Kymeria was . . . at best, as stubborn as your dwarf-friend back there," Freaja said. "She's determined to see any order given by the Ranger-General seen through, to the bitter end. That much I can tell you."

"Yes, and you'll never get me to change my mind, Freaja!" Kymeria snapped.

Liam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then he faced Freaja fully. "Perhaps she might . . . if she knew the full story?"

"The full . . . story?" Kymeria shot Liam a hard look.

"Story?" Freaja echoed her kinswoman's confusion.

"Yes," Liam said. "After all, she said you had vanished . . . perhaps telling her where you have been - from when we found you, to now - might help her to see the full scope of things."

Tilting her head, Freaja was silent, then she nodded. "Agreed. It's best that I do tell her. After all. For what she considers me a traitor, Kymeria should know that I cannot lie . . . not ever to her." With that, Freaja launched into a full recounting of their journey from the far-south in the Alliance lands. Liam and Kymeria - who had no choice - listened as she spoke of the running journey through Stormwind, Iroforge and beyond. She gave a little embellishment at the point of her rescue at Shadowfang Keep, and the events within Undercity, before coming to the end of her telling and looked hard at her fellow kinswoman.

Kymeria, for her part, had lost a bit of her harshness in stance with the full story. "Well . . . it does make for a pretty tale, Freaja. Yet, it still doesn't account for how you betrayed our people!"

Freaja sighed. "Kymi, you need to have one clarion fact made clear, Kymi. I, did, not, betray those people, whom I was given charge over in the first place!"

At that, Liam held up one hand to stop Freaja from continuing her tirade. "My Lady, stop . . . please. Who are these people that Kymeria and you keep referring to?"

"These 'people', human," Kymeria said acidly, "were nearly twenty men and women, who were part of a caravan of Outrunners. People that were under HER command-!"

"Peace!" Liam's one word wasn't shouted, but the command behind it was like the thunder strike after a vicious lightning stroke. When Kymeria fell silent, Liam looked to Freaja and asked, "Lady, there's more to this that I know. I need to hear this side of the tale, before we go any further."

At that, Freaja sighed and quickly mastered herself. "You are right, knight. There is a part of this that you and my . . . friend here, do not yet know about."

"Then, please, tell us." Liam said.

Freaja nodded, then she looked down at the ground as she gathered her thoughts. "It was several weeks ago. I was part of a company of Blood Knights, given orders to assist in guarding Outrunner caravans. The Outrunners have the duty of moving supplies to the outlaying villages and holdings of the Sin'dorei; through out Eversong Woods, to Tranquillien and many points in between." She paused and looked to Kymeria, who merely looked away in acute embarrassment. "This had been the charge of the Farstriders, but since the sacking of Quel'Thalas by the Scourge . . . there are too few rangers to spare for all the caravans that are needed to keep all of our villages supplied.

"Myself, was in charge of a caravan of vital supplies bound for Tranquillien and a few of the outlying posts that border the Plaguelands," she went on to explain. "We had just left for the first of these, when we were ambushed by raiders, near the pass that leads out of the Ghostlands and into these very Plaguelands." She turned slightly pale, as she continued to speak; "They hit us hard, and it was like they knew what weaknesses my fellow knights and I possessed . . . it was brutal. A slaughter, as they picked us apart, one by one.

"For some reason, I never knew why then, they left my position at the head of the caravan to the last. Eventually, they got to me, pulled me and my second-in-command down and disarmed us." She gripped one arm and shivered, saying softly with the haunted memory vivid in her eyes. "He was killed, along with the rest of the Outrunners and my knights." She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, before she opened them; now having mastered her personal nightmares. "They looted the supplies and took them and me off, to some location I cannot recall where. When they got there, a group of Orcs were waiting."

Liam nodded. "No doubt the Um'gol slavers, whom I and my friends discovered in the wilds in Westfall."

Freaja nodded. "They were speaking in some gutter-tongue of Orcish . . . one I didn't recognize, but their intentions were made abundantly clear. I was stripped, beaten, then tossed into one of their cages, before they left the raiders and headed off into the night." She glared at Kymeria - who by now was staring up at her with eyes wide in shock. "I don't know where they went, nor was I often sensible enough to recall. They apparently were told I was never to be sold. Merely taken along, and to be beaten often, until I either succumbed or they decided to kill me outright." She looked at Liam, and a touch of a smile filled her face. "It was thanks to this knight and his friends that I survived to tell the tale."

Liam merely nodded respectfully to her calm praise.

Freaja returned her attention to Kymeria. "Now, you know the whole of the story, as I can tell it, Kymi. I am no traitor; never before, and not ever. As a Knight of the Blood-Sworn Order, and as your friend, you know I could never lie to you."

By now, Kymeria had lost her hard, brittle anger and was looking up at Freaja with a more somber tone. "Well, I . . . I guess-." She heaved a great sigh, then dropped her eyes and chin as she ducked her head. "You are right, Frea. You've never lied to me . . . and, I guess I let my pride get in the way of reason."

Freaja shook her head. "Pride, was ever a weakness with our people, Kymi." She stepped over and knelt next to the blond Ranger, making her look at her again. "It was a hard lesson I had to learn myself . . . if only recently."

Kymeria nodded. "But . . . what will you do now?" She glanced at her bound hands, then over at her captive armsmen.

Liam crossed his arms and asked, "Indeed, what shall we do now, Lady?"

Freaja didn't speak. She merely reached for Kymeria's belt, where a long knife was sheathed. Drawing it out, she reached up and quickly cut the rope bonds holding the Farstrider prisoner. Rising, she turned the knife around and handed it out to the still-kneeling elf woman. "Trust in those who care, was another lesson I learned recently." She arched one long eyebrow at Kymeria. "Do I still have yours, Kymi?"

Kymeria reached up slowly and took the offered weapon, before rising to stand in front of Freaja. With a sure and steady motion, she sheathed the knife and nodded to her red-haired kinswoman. "I may have acted in haste and harsh words . . . but, I have ever and always will be your trusted friend, Frea."

With a smile, Freaja nodded. "That, is a great relief to hear." Without warning, she stepped up and swept the Farstrider into a fierce hug. "I'm glad to finally see you again, Kymi," she said.

Returning the hug, Kymeria nodded. "It is good to see and be seen, Frea." Stepping back as their embrace ended, Kymeria turned to Liam and made a somewhat respectful bow. "It seems I must thank you for my friend's life, human."

Freaja rolled her eyes, before shooting a wan smile to Liam. "He does have a name, Kymi. It seems I must make proper introductions. This is Liam mac Roi; Knight of the Silver Hand and Loredaeron." She nodded to Kymi for Liam's sake. "In return, knight, this is Kymeria Dawnrunner, of Silvermoon's Farstriders and, my best friend since childhood."

Liam merely smiled and bowed over one fist. "Honored and a pleasure, Ranger Dawnrunner."

Kymeria arched her own eyebrows in surprise. "A respectful human . . . well! I would never have thought to see that in my lifetime."

"Oh, you'll find that is merely part of why I've . . . come to trust this particular, impossible human, for now." Freaja said with a soft chuckle. She quickly lost her mirth when she said, "However, we've little time for further niceties. There are other matters before us now."

"Agreed, Lady," Liam said.

Kymeria asked, "Wait, what matters?"

Liam and Freaja both exchanged telling looks. "There is still the matter of who ordered the raiders to attack the caravan, and why they singled me out of all of our people to be spared, only to be given to those cursed slavers." She frowned deeply. "There's a deeper mystery here, and I for one will see it to the bitter end."

Kymeria nodded. "Well, if it is something to be solved, you know I am with you if only to help, Frea."

Freaja nodded with a small smile. "I know, and thank you, my friend." She looked at Liam and added, "Knight, though I find myself in better company . . . I would ask that you don't consider your charge and oath fulfilled just yet."

Liam said, "I can only agree with you on that score, my Lady. Since you are not yet returned safely to your home, what with this new mystery added, I will not leave you until I am assured you are completely restored."

"Wait," Kymeria said, "you are planning to come with us, back to Silvermoon?" She stared hard at Liam. "That may not be the best thing. Our people aren't going to allow a human to just walk into our capital, even if you do come with good intentions."

Liam said, "I am aware of that, and yet . . . I cannot and will not be swayed. Lady Freaja's abduction is clearly linked to some unknown purpose. It must be uncovered, or I fear her return may well become a death sentence." He nodded slowly to the grim look from Freaja and the shocked expression filling Kymeria's face.

"Well . . . then, what will you do, Knight?" Kymeria asked.

Liam turned to look at the armsmen being watched over by the Cousins, cupping his chin in thought. He then turned and gave Kymeria a long, searching look. "What is your current standing within your fellowship, Ranger?"

Surprised by the question, Kymeria unconsciously straightened her posture. "I am a Lieutenant, of the Outrider Guardwatch; command officer of my company." She added, "I was assigned to this group of armsmen after being attached to the garrison at Tranquillien."

Liam cocked his head, thinking in silence for a moment longer before he asked Freaja. "Would we be better suited to speak to the Ranger commanders or the leaders of your own Blood-Sworn Order?"

Freaja didn't hesitate as she said, "The Blood-Knights, without any doubt."

"Then, I do believe I have a plan to help get us into Silvermoon without incurring the wrath of her guardians." He looked at Kymeria with a crooked grin. "We shall surrender to you, Ranger, and become your prisoners."

Kymeria blinked and looked from Liam to Freaja in momentary confusion. Then, the gist of his plan caught hold in her mind, and she nodded. "It . . . yes, it might work. But, are you certain-?"

"Believe me, Kymi," Freaja said. "If I know this knight, he will make it work."

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oOoOo

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A short time later, Liam was seated on his saber-mount, which was tied to the side of the buckboard wagon. His hands were in full view, tied to the ridge of his mounts' saddle, while his body was covered with a full-weather cloak.

Both Rhandall and Hanna were in the box-bed, wearing full weather cloaks as they knelt there. Around them five of the armsmen were now formed up with their arms and shield restored, while the sixth rode on the wagon's front seat to drive it. In front of them, riding two colorful, bipedal avian creatures called Hawkstriders, both Freaja and Kymeria were doing a final check with their gear.

Scowling, Rhandall muttered, "I don' like this, not one bit!"

"Would ye rather we just come chargin' up tae th' main gate o' yon lassie's city?" Hanna said softly. "M'sure th' guards would love tae invite us in fer tea an' biscuits then!"

Rhandall muttered something, puffing out his beard before he said, "I'm only sayin'! Tis' nae a proper way for a dwarf t'travel."

"Be that as it may," Liam said, looking down at his red-bearded friend, "We don't have much of a choice. This may be the only peaceful way to get into Silvermoon without incurring a skirmish."

"Aye," Hanna said, "since th' whole city is practically Horde territory."

By then, Kymeria had moved up beside the wagon on her Hawkstrider, taking a moment to speak to the armsmen and the wagon driver before addressing the trio. "We're all but ready to go, Knight. If you have any doubts about this-."

"None, Ranger Dawnrunner." Liam said firmly. "We are in your charge now . . . and must act as all prisoners should, under the circumstances."

Kymeria nodded, before looking down at the brace of weapons - two swords, three axes, a shield and a pair of blunderbusses strapped to the side of her mount's saddle. "Very well. I just hope we won't run into any sort of trouble, before we reach the Enclave of the Blood Knights." She eyed her armsmen briefly, before turning to head back to the front of the small caravan. "Just remember, if any trouble does happen, you may well be on your own."

Liam nodded. "We shall be aware, Ranger." Liam glanced down at the Cousins. "All of us, indeed?"

Both Hanna and Rhandall bobbed their heads in agreement, before shifting their hands to a pair of seemingly inconspicuous bulges beneath their cloaks.

"Very well then." Kymeria nudged her mount forwards, moving to take up her place next to Freaja. With that, she called out, "Onwards, to Silvermoon!"

With a clatter of wheels and running footsteps, the caravan surged onto the road . . . headed for the Ghostlands, and for the Sin'dorei capital beyond . . . .

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	23. Chapter 23

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"Book One : The Blessed Light"**

**A World of Warcraft tale**  
**by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2012**

**DISCLAIMER** : _This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

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oOoOo

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Twenty Three

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_Quel'Thalas . . . ._

_Once, it was the golden, forest-clad kingdom of the High Elves, the Quel'dorei. After suffering the ignoble severance and banishment from their Kal'dorei brethren, the Quel'dorei sailed away from their common ancestral home in Kalimdor, and founded a new home in the far northern lands of the continent of Lordaeron._

_Here, after at time, they raised a new city and, after fighting off the native Trolls of the Amani, they forged their shining kingdom behind protective barriers. Casting enchantments to render an eternal springtime throughout the forests, the High Elves flourished for nearly a thousand years . . . ._

_Then, with the Invasion of the Burning Legion, came the Scourge._

_Lead by the dread Death Knight, Arthas Menenthil, the Scourge wreaked havoc with their march across the Eversong Woods. They scoured the land as they fought the Quel'dorei defenders, and smashed through to take their sole fount of arcane power; the Sunwell._

_In the course of this, nearly all of the High Elves were slaughtered. Those that survived, soon took up a new name in memory of their fallen brethren; Sin'dorei. Blood Elves._

_In time, the Sin'dorei have slowly begun to rebuild their shattered home. And it is into this land of contrasting blight and bounty, that our heroes have now come into . . . ._

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oOoOo

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_On the road to Silvermoon, Approaching Tranquillien . . . ._

"There," Kymeria said - more for the benefit of their 'prisoners', than for herself - pointing with one hand towards an expanse of blight-stricken land that could be seen through the forests that bordered the road. "That, is the Scar. The path that Arthas and his army of undead took follows right along that stretch of blight." She frowned, adding, "It flows right up to the walls of our home city . . . and on through to the Isle of Quel'danas. The former resting place of our Sunwell."

In the wagon behind the Sin'dorei ranger, Hanna and Rhandall Stormhand looked with somber expressions at the death-trench through the boughs. Sighing, the elder of the two cousins said, "Ach, 'tis clear that bastard dinnae pull any punches when he invaded yer homeland, Lass."

Beside the wagon on his saber cat, Liam mac Roi nodded in grim accord with the Wildhammer dwarf. "A tragedy, to the Elves to have to bear such a wound. Both to their land and to their own people."

Riding the borrowed hawkstrider alongside her friend's own avian mount in front of their combined-column, Freaja Bloodsun grimaced as she looked off to her left. "Nearly all of my people were slaughtered when Arthas marched on Quel'Thalas, Knight." She looked away with a shiver in her long frame. "I lost my mother to the Scourge. There is not a single family of the Sin'dorei that did not suffer a loss."

Kymeria added, "There are some who lost all to the Scourge . . . entire generations wiped out, due to Arthas' lust for power."

Liam said sagely, "It is no wonder your people do not trust humans."

Kymeria turned in her saddle to stare hard at Liam. "Our trust was lost long before Arthas attack us, Knight. You have your former leader, Garathos to thank for that."

Liam merely nodded, frowning in silence as he rode along behind.

Freaja reached out to grip Kymeria's arm. "That, my friend, is in the past," she said. "We need to focus on the present. It will do us little good to stir up hatred for someone long since dead and gone."

Kymeria relaxed her ire, and sighed. "You . . . are right, Frea. I'm sorry." She turned back around and said, "I guess the hate is a little harder to let go."

Freaja nodded. "It is all right. It was hard enough for me to let go of my own hatred." She glanced back at Liam, before she chuckled to herself. "Though, I had a little help in the learning."

Kymeria looked at her friend, arching one eyebrow. "So, I see . . . though, after seeing how you defended your 'friends' back there, I admit it is certainly a surprise." She looked the red-haired elf woman over before shaking her head. "Blessed Sun, Frea, how you managed to stay sane after all you've been through-!"

"Believe me, Kymi, it hasn't been for the lack of my trying to." She sighed deeply. "Still, if it hadn't been for Liam's help, I'd have never been able to return home at all."

"Well, I would never have thought I would say it, but this human of yours has my eternal thanks."

At that, Freaja shot Kymeria a sharp look. "One thing you need to keep straight, friend. Liam, is, not, MY human!"

With a chuckle, Kymeria said, "Oh, it's 'Liam' now? I thought he was just a Knight to you?"

Freaja snorted, but it was clear to her Kymeria was needling her with a dose of good humor. "In any case, I'll just be glad to tell my story to the elder-leaders of the Blood-Sworn, and finally put this whole ordeal behind me."

With a grimace, Kymeri said, "That, may be not as easy as you may think, Frea." At the arched look she got for saying that, she stated quickly, "Things are not as calm in Silvermoon as you left them. There's been . . . tensions between the Blood Knights and the Farstriders. Talk of betrayals and misconduct. Of collusion and worse. And not just because of your disappearance either."

"Scorch and Sparks! We cannot have two essential elements of our defenses at each other's throats. Haven't our leaders addressed this?" Freaja asked.

"Regent Lor'themar has been trying, but someone . . . someone within either the Order or the Farstriders has been sabotaging the progress." Kymeria looked bleakly ahead. "So far, everyone is pointing blame at others and jumping at shadows. It's breaking down morale and . . . Freaja, these are hard times for all of us in Silvermoon. You might wish you'd never come back."

Freaja shook her head. "No, my friend. It is good that I did come back now. Our people will need all the help they can get." She reached out to clasp the blond ranger's arm again. "Especially in light of what has happened to me. It is quite possible that it and what is transpiring among our people are linked."

"But, how-?"

"I do not know, my friend." Freaja frowned, before straightening her shoulders and staring at the road ahead of them. "But, it is a mystery that I will solve. No matter what." She glanced at her friend with a resolute countenance. "The very existence of our people may depend on it."

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oOoOo

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The rest of the journey across Tranquillien was blissfully unremarkable. Save for the looks of surprise and concern in the faces of a scattered number of Sin'dorei, no one moved to challenge Kymeria's guards as they led their 'captives' through the small holding.

From his place, Liam observed all with a relatively impassive mask on his face, even though his eyes belied his sympathy for the conditions of the villager's homes. Yet, he couldn't help himself as his face drew up into a pinched expression, as he noticed the number of undead - members of the Forsaken - who were intermixed among them.

In turn, these same Forsaken stared back at him with ill-concealed hate.

_As much as they are a blight against my own view of the world,_ Liam thought, _I must represent a specter of their demise by being here._ Still, for all the dark looks sent his way, Liam remained calm and did nothing more than sit straight and tall in his saddle as they passed through the remainder of the village.

In time, they passed beyond Tranquillien and moved into the very heart of the elven lands; where the trees looked less warped and the air was actually warm and inviting.

Yet, even here, the presence of the former death-march of the Scourge was still palpable. As the swath of blighted ground had now shifted and was looming parallel to the road the party traveled on.

From his place on the wagon, Rhandall Stormhand made a low whistle. "Bronbor's hammer n' tongs!" he said softly.

Liam turned and stared at the red-bearded dwarf. "It isn't a pretty sight, Rhandall."

One of the guardsmen nodded. "The Scourge did great evil on our lands, Paladin." He motioned with his glaive towards the far side of the ruined path. "Even now, we still must deal with their ilk, even while the accursed Arthas has long since departed."

There, Liam and Rhandall watched as several rotting corpses and shambling ghouls were milling about the ruin of what once must have been a tall, golden tower. Rhandall drew in a hissing breath, half-rising in his seat.

The armsman made a dismissive gesture. "They will come no closer. They only seem to have the heart to attack when they have grown too restless."

Rhandall settled back down in his seat on the wagon. "Aye, but cannae ye be certain they won't attack us now? Yon lot o' bone-chewers looks pretty lively enough t'me!"

At that, Kymeria - who had drifted back to ride next to the wagon - said with a grim laugh, "Oh, we get a few who attempt to attack the local villages now and again, but they are mindless and never attack with purpose."

Liam nodded. "Still, until they are removed completely, your people will never truly be free of their threat. Do your people not patrol this scar to eliminate them?"

Kymeria frowned. "Our forces are already spread too thinly, Paladin. The Farstriders do the best we can . . . but, we are not the great numbers we once were."

Liam nodded, and said nothing more.

By then, the party had passed through another village, and had actually crossed over the Scar before moving alongside a high, stone wall; behind which rose more spires and towers that spoke of a city just beyond it.

Liam craned his head up to stare at the looming spires; a movement that was mirrored by the Cousins, and was not missed by Freaja and Kymeria. With a proud smile, Freaja said, "That, knight, is the city of Silvermoon. My home and the capital of the Sin'dorei." Glancing at the trio in turn, she added with a touch of amusement, "I wager this is the first time in ages someone from the Alliance has seen it up close, hm?"

"Och, ye might say that, lassie," Hanna Stormhand said. "It's . . . quite th' thing t'see."

"T'be certain, 'tis nothin' like I've ever seen b'fore," Rhandall muttered, though he could ill-hide the awe in his tone.

Liam dropped his gaze from the city beyond the wall and looked to Freaja. "It is a remarkable sight, my Lady. It also signifies the end of our journey together," he said somberly.

Freaja caught his tone, and some of the joy in her face drained away. "Yes, you are right . . . still-."

"Freaja!"

Kymeria's urgent use of her name made the Blood Elf paladin jerk her head around. "What, Kymi?"

The blond elf woman made a motion with one hand towards an arched bridge that curved away from the road they were on, where it ended against the stepped, open arch of a gate in the wall ahead of them. "That . . . something's not right here."

Rhandall and Hanna both went tense as steel. "What d'ye mean, lassie?" Hanna asked.

Liam noticed that the armsmen surrounding them were just as alert and confused as they were. "My Lady, what does she mean?"

Both Kymeria and Freaja shared a silent look, before Freaja looked at Liam and said, "That is the Shepherd's Gate. The one way into the city-proper . . . but it's usually guarded!" She frowned and looked back to Kymeria again.

"If not by armsmen, it falls to Farstriders to help in guarding this gate," she said.

Liam looked quickly about, and the stillness of the air and the lack of any signs of life around them made his hair rise on the back of his neck.

Beside him Liam heard Rhandall hiss softly. "Lad, this feels like a trap t'me."

Liam nodded. "I sense that, too."

Kymeria nodded. "I'm inclined to agree with your dwarf, Knight. Guards, form ranks!" At that, the armsmen moved swiftly to form a phalanx in front of the wagon, and Kymeria quickly unlimbered her bow. "What now, Freaja?"

Freaja looked back at Liam and his companions - and got only a small head shake from him in response - before she looked towards the gate and sighed. "Unguarded or not, that gate is the only way in. We have to pass through to reach the Blood Knight Enclave, where I can speak to the members of my order." She looked at Kymeria and nodded. "We'll take it slow. If there is trouble about, we'll be better prepared for it."

Kymeria nodded, then said to Liam and the dwarves, "Stay on your mount and with the wagon." She motioned to Freaja and together they moved their hawkstriders in front of the wagon, just behind the armsmen. "Move forwards, men. Easy."

As one, the column started towards the turn towards the bridge. The wheels of the wagon creaked as they shifted from the road onto the paved stone surface, but all that could be heard was the tread of footsteps as they approached the gate.

Liam's hands flexed on the handle of his saddle, as he peered up at the top of the wall on either side of the gate. If this is a trap, why would it be here? This close to Freaja's home city? And for that matter, WHO would be laying in wait like this? The answer came on the heels of a sudden, whistling shriek of air; an arrow whipped by the two mounted Sin'dorei women to hit the front of the wagon with a sharp _THUNK!_. Both Hanna and Rhandall threw themselves down to the bottom of the wagon bed. Startled, the armsmen held their ground and raised their shields, and Freaja and Kymeria were quick to keep their hawkstriders from bolting.

"Hold! Stand fast and surrender!" a voice shouted.

Liam looked this way and that, trying to locate the speaker, just as a score of leather-clad, armed Sin'dorei boiled out from underneath the bridge behind them. "Lady! Behind us!"

Freaja turned, drawing her warblade just as Kymeria pulled her own swords out, but she held fast as more armed elves swarmed out from the hidden wings behind the gate, and they all joined together to form a double line in front of the party. "Do not move! Stand fast!" she said, as the Sin'dorei drew out war-bows and aimed iron-tipped shafts at them.

Liam's mount growled, but held her place as he pressed in with his knees. "Steady, girl . . . steady," he said softly, keeping his eyes on the armed elves before them. Eventually, all were still, save for the prick-quick motions of Freaja and Kymeria's mounts as they darted looks all around.

Kymeria said softly in alarm, "These are Farstriders!" She looked down the line and rose up in her saddle to speak harshly, "What is the meaning of this? Why are you baring our passage in this manner?"

A voice from one side of the line replied with steel-edged rancor, "Because you travel with one who has been marked as a _sin'osa_, Ranger! As such, it is our duty to see such . . . filth, captured and brought to justice."

Liam turned as did Freaja, both seeking out the speaker; the former with piqued interest and the later with renewed rage. "You claim I am _sin'osa_? Show yourself, coward!"

At that, one of the Sin'dorei rangers moved away from the line to stand at the top of the stairs leading up to the gate. He was not unhandsome, but his dark hair and small beard gave him a clearly sinister air. "There are worse things to be that a coward, Traitor," he said, ire dripping off of every word. "How fitting that all we had to do was wait for you to return, rather than seek you out!"

Freaja bristled. "You have no right to call me that, Ranger," she said in a low tone. "I am no _sin'osa_ . . . a blood traitor!

"Why not? When you not only return, but bring further proof of your traitorous ways with you?" He gestured towards Liam. "Why else would you have a human, traveling with you?"

At that, Kymeria moved her mount to bring her closer to Freaja's, saying, "Because, Captain Sunblight, that human is a prisoner that Champion Bloodsun captured. She brings him to be questioned by the Blood-Sworn Order."

Captain Sunblight made a disgusted sound. "A useless gesture. Bringing a prisoner in is a poor excuse, for covering up your true crimes, Bloodsun!"

From beside Liam in the wagon, Rhandall muttered, "'Tis not goin' well, Lad!"

"We dare not do anything . . . yet," Liam whispered harshly.

Freaja snapped her words at the Ranger officer, saying, "You accuse me wrongly, Captain! I have never betrayed my people-!"

Captain Sunblight waved his hand angrily, cutting her off as he said, "Lies! You are a traitor to Silvermoon, your people and your race! I will not stand her and bandy words with you, Bloodsun! Men! Seize them and put that traitor in chains." He grinned wickedly. "We'll deal with her as befits all traitors . . . with the swift justice of an executioners sword."

As the rangers moved forwards, Liam quickly twisted his hands - breaking loose the shackles which had been deceptively attached at his wrists - and swung one leg over his saddle. His mount, having practiced this maneuver many times before, crouched and then heaved upwards, allowing Liam to use that momentum to launch himself up and over to land between the advancing elves and Freaja. As the rangers recoiled in shock, Liam drew his longsword and brandished it towards them; his eyes locked on those of the Captain, filled with fire-wrapped steel and resolve.

"What-?" Captain Sunblight retreated a pace in alarm. "That prisoner is armed!"

Sudden movement from the wagon made every Sin'dorei ranger jerk in alarm. Liam didn't need to look back, as the sound of rifles been cocked preceded the grim call of Rhandall, who said, "We're nay about t'come 'cross yer lands wi'out some measure of protection, Captain Pointy-Ears!"

"We were never prisoners to begin with," Liam said as he stared hard at Captain Sunblight. "Our 'capture' was for the benefit of Lady Bloodsun and Ranger Sunrunner." He took one step forwards, and the line of rangers faltered. "Stand back, for no one may touch Lady Freaja.

The sergeant at the middle of the line turned and looked to his leader for orders.

Captain Sunblight scowled, regaining himself before he snapped, "Take that dog down, and bring that _sin'osa_ with you in chains! I command it!"

Liam said firmly, "You will not touch her."

At that, Captain Sunblight stared hard at Liam. His glowing green eyes searching his face, before he laughed cruelly. "You are in no position to tell me what to do, human scum! I am Captain Jakhor Sunblight, of Silvermoon's Farstriders, and you will be taken. Either in chains, or dead."

Liam's stance did not waver, but he stared hard at the Farstrider officer and each of his men in turn. "I am a Knight of the Silver Hand and by my oath to the Blessed Light, the Lady Freaja is under my protection," he said. "Until I am certain she has been safely delivered to her own people, no one may harm her." With an arched look aimed at Jakhor, he added, "And you, Sir, strike me as one Sin'dorei who is not one of her own."

With each word spoken, Jahkor's face turned darker with rage. With venom, he spat at Liam. "You are a curr of the accursed Alliance, and armed or not, oath or not you will be taken and dealt with like the scum you are!" He drew his own blade and made a sweeping motion with his free hand. "Rangers! Take them all and kill them if they so much as move an inch in defiance!"

As the first of the rank of Farstriders began to move, a voice shouted from behind the massed Blood Elves: "STAND FAST, ALL OF YOU!"

Liam blinked, and looked past Jahkor and his men. There, in front of the statue that stood in the center of the gateway was another Sin'dorei. This one - male and seated on a horse, which was covered in crimson and gold armor - wore dark armor with red trim, which bore the sigil of a red phoenix bird on a field of black.

Turning to face the newcomer, Jahkor sneered anew, before giving a cutting gesture in the air. "Bah! This is Farstrider business, Bloodvalor." He spoke again to his men. "Ignore him and-!"

"No! You will not ignore my command, _Captain_ Sunblight!" the mounted elf said, stressing the elf's rank as a reminder of Jakhor's own omission. With that, he gave a piercing whistle and urged his steed forwards. "As you are trying to apprehend a member of the Blood Knight's Order, this matter of so-called business deeply concerns me! Knights!"

With that, several more Sin'dorei boiled out of the wings beyond the Shepherd's Gate; all bearing the same armor and tabard as the mounted elf. They surged past the now-stricken Rangers and formed a second line in front of Liam and the others, brandishing long, ornate-headed spears, swords and shields.

Almost apoplectic, Jahkor whirled on the Blood Knight leader with his sword raised. "You dare defy my authority, Lord Bloodvalor! I am well within my rights to take these prisoners-!"

"You do not, not when it is clear one of your 'prisoners' is a member of our people who has been missing for quite some time, Captain," Bloodvalor said curtly. Kneeing his mount, he urged it forwards until the proximity of the charger forced Jakhor to retreat several steps. "As that stands, I have the authority that supersedes yours where these . . . people are concerned." Before the Ranger officer could form a reply, Bloodvalor said darkly, "Or should I summon the Ranger-General, and we can have all of the truths laid bare before everyone, at once?"

Tense energy filled the air, and from his vantage point, Liam could tell that a fierce contest of wills was being waged between the Blood Knight leader and the Ranger captain. Jakhor turned back and stared hard at Freaja - his eyes literally smoking with ill-checked rage and hatred - before settling on Liam briefly before returning to Lord Bloodvalor.

Suddenly, Jakhor snorted and quickly sheathed his weapon. "Fine. Do as you will." He snapped his head to the side, and jerked a hand towards his sergeant. "Return to the compound, at once!" Without looking to see that his order was obeyed, he turned and stared hard at Liam and then past him to where Freaja was. "Do not even think, that this has ended. Mark, my, words . . . for you will _all_ pay for this!" With that, he whirled around and began stalking back through the right side of the gateway.

Liam lowered his weapon, before moving back slowly to where Freaja and the others were still seated on their mounts. "My Lady, I suspect what we both feared is even more that expected." Looking up, he saw the terse expression on her face, which softened somewhat as she looked back at him.

"Perhaps, Knight." She started to say more, but the approach of the mounted Blood Knight and his men forced her to turn her attention away from Liam. "Lord Bloodvalor," she said, nodding respectfully. "Your arrival was and is greatly appreciated."

Lord Bloodvalor nodded. "You come back to us in hazardous times, Dame Bloodsun." He cast a slow, searching sweep of his eyes over the others. "And, in stranger company than expected."

Freaja motioned to Liam and the dwarves. "Had it not been for these people, I would not have returned at all, Lord."

Lord Bloodvalor stared down at Liam with unblinking eyes for several seconds. Then he said, "Human, while a part of me thanks you for whatever . . . service you have done for Dame Bloodsun, you must realize you are not welcome here."

Liam nodded. "I would not have come at all, if not for my oath to Lady Freaja and my duty to see her returned to her people."

"Admirable, human, still there is a consequence to your folly."

"There is more to this than it appears, Lord," Freaja said. "There is a grave matter that I must bring to the elder members of our Order. As such, this knight and his companions are witness to part of it. and for now they cannot be harmed."

"Oh?" Lord Bloodvalor asked. "What matter is this, Dame Bloodsun?"

"I dare not speak of it out in the open, Lord. For that, I request a special case of . . . asylum, for all of them. Until such time as we can address all matters concerning a threat to Quel'Thalas," she said.

At that, Lord Bloodvalor cocked his head, his face full of disbelief. "Dame Bloodsun, never since the time of when our people were mistreated by the humans, have we even ever entertained the thought of harboring any of their kind! To ask that, even for a human who has given you aid-?"

"I know my history, Lord, but in this case it must be given," Freaja said. "The very safety of our city-!" She cut herself off, calming herself for a moment, before saying, "Lord, I have ever served our people faithfully and with equal parts of duty and determination. Believe me, when I say the elder members of the Blood-Sworn Order must hear what this knight and his companions have to say."

Liam watched with concern as Lord Bloodvalor seemed to chew on Freaja's words for a good span of heartbeats. Then, he faced Liam and said sharply, "Human, if we grant you asylum, will you offer up your arms and give us your word to not cause mischief or harm while inside our city? Understand, that to break such faith will surely mean your death."

Liam straightened up, and humbly presented his sword to the mounted Blood Knight. "I am Liam mac Roi, Lord. As a Knight of the Silver Hand, my oath and word are bonding, not just for myself but for my companions as well. We surrender all arms to you, and will not cause any trouble while within the walls of your capital city."

A look of surprise flickered across Lord Bloodvalor's face. Clearly unused to such courtesy and respect from an enemy. But he recovered and reached down to take hold of the hilt of Liam's sword. "Mark your words well . . . Knight mac Roi." He straightened up, and turned to speak to his assembled men. "Guard these prisoners well, Knights. We'll take them to the enclave, at once." He paused to look to where Kymeria was, and nodded. "See to your duties, Ranger. You are dismissed."

Liam turned, regarding the blond-haired elf woman as she shared a silent congress with Freaja. Then Kymeria nodded to Lord Bloodvalor, and she kicked her mount into motion to head into the gateway.

"Take your mount, Knight. We will not travel fast, but we must not linger," Lord Bloodvalor said to him.

Liam looked back and nodded, before whistling for his 'saber mount. The cat padded up to him, crouching briefly so he could climb into the saddle. Looking back, he watched as Rhandall and Hanna had both surrendered their rifles and personal arms to the waiting Blood Knights now surrounding the wagon. Neither looked pleased, but he could tell from their stance that both of the Stormhand Cousins would comply with his given word.

_So,_ he thought to himself as he turned back to follow along as the column started towards the Shepherd's Gate, _Now . . . things get far more interesting, and assuredly more dangerous._ He stared at Freaja, who was riding alongside Lord Bloodvalor, sitting up straight and tense as a bowstring.

_My Lady, for what it is worth, I hope we can finally solve the riddle of this whole affair . . . ._

.

-==- To Be Continued... -==-


	24. Chapter 24

**THE PRAXEUM CHRONICLES**  
**"Book One : The Blessed Light"**

A World of Warcraft tale  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / © 2012

_**DISCLAIMER** : This story is an original prose based on situations, settings, places and themes from the MMORPG game "World of Warcraft", by Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. All characters that appear within - with the exception of all original characters created by the author - are the property of said licenses, and are used here without knowledge or permission of same._

_This story is the rightful property of the author; all original characters and the plot depicted within are protected by copyright law. This story was produced to entertain fans of the original game, and is in no way, shape or form intended to be published for monetary gain. Please do not sue._

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oOoOo

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Twenty Four

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_Inisde the Blood Knight Conclave, Silvermoon City, Quel'Thalas . . . ._

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Lord Solanar Bloodwrath looked down from the raised portion of the conclave's gathering chamber. In all his days of service - both as a former member of the Royal Guard to Silvermoon's ruling family and as one of the high officers of the Bloodsworn Order - he had never been privy to such a situation as this. _If someone had told me once, I would witness these people appearing in our Order's closed chambers-?_ He shook his head slightly, before flicked his eyes across to where his fellow Blood Knights stood in relative silence.

Relative, that is, because they were currently in heated discussion over this day's unexpected arrivals.

"This is . . . irregular, at best." one of the Blood Knight trainers said, looking at the motley collection of people standing before him. The Sin'dorei elf in black and crimson livery cleared his throat. "Irregular, and at the most-."

"At the most, it is an outright outrage!" a female Blood Knight, Irrisa Bloodstar said from one side of the wide chamber. "To allow these . . . Alliance inside our hall-!"

"Calmly, my Sister. These 'Alliance' are here under asylum," a dark-clad, ebony-haired elf said.

Irrisa sneered at the speaker. "Asylum, for which I would never have given them in the first place, Ajernon Sunblade! Had it been I-!"

"But, the fact remains, these people have been allowed asylum - given by a member of the Bloodsworn Order, which we are all a part of," Ajernon said firmly. "What one speaks, we all must support their decision. Otherwise, why else do we even-."

"For that matter, why are we even talking about this?" another Blood Knight - a vicious-looking, dark-haired male - said, before thrusting a finger at the cluster of figures standing in the center of the chamber. "The enemy has foolishly come to our own capital, and all we can do is talk about inconsequential circumstances-?"

"The consequences of the reported death of one of our Order," Knight-Lord Bloodvalor snapped, cutting everyone off, "is hardly inconcenquental, Knight Duyash!"

"Oh indeed!" Duyash said with an added edge to his words. "Considering how that particular individual is currently under suspicion for betraying us!" He gestured to the rest of the assembled Blood Knights. "We've all heard the whispered accusations from the Farstriders-."

"What the Rangers believe is not our concern, Knight Duyash!" Lord Bloodvalor said at his most censorious; his voice thundering with barely-checked ire at the younger knight's gall. "We are our own council, and will not be swayed by what outsiders believe - even among our own people!" He stared harshly from one Blood Knight to another, waiting for them to show a modicum of acceptance before he turned and nodded to Lord Bloodwrath. "As it stands, our Order's highest officer was about to bring the principal party in question to task. We do them - and Lord Bloodwrath - little respect by turning this open council into a squabble!"

Lord Bloodwrath bowed his head. "Well said, Lord Bloodvalor." He turned to face the cluster of persons arrayed on the lower floor before them, and made a motion. "Come forward, Dame Bloodsun." His eyes stayed fixed on the one he addressed, as she stood beside a human male in plate and mail armor, and two dwarves in girded leathers. With a short, respectful bow, the Sin'dorei woman moved forward to stand a few paces closer to the platform.

Several of the knights made soft murmurs to one another, but all fell silent when Lord Bloodwrath stepped up to the edge of the platform and gripped its gilded railing with both hands.

Drawing in a deep breath, Lord Bloodwrath said at length, "Your appearance here is . . . both a cause for great relief and, at the same time great consternation, Dame Bloodsun." He flicked a short glance towards the trio behind Freaja. "Especially in light of the company of those you bring with you."

Freaja nodded, before saying, "I'm more than aware of the . . . delicate nature that is before you, Lord. Especially when you add the presence of these people." She turned to indicate Liam and the Stormhand cousins. "Yet, I cannot deny that, were it not for these people, I could not be standing here, before all of our Orders' champions."

"It is little wonder in that, Sister," Irrisa said coolly, stepping away from her fellows to be better heard. "When last was heard, your detail assigned to an Outrunner caravan was slaughtered to the last man."

Freaja nodded. "I do not dispute that claim, but it clearly was in error."

"Yes, since you appear before us, alive." Lord Bloodwrath said. "As such, there is much talk among the people about what exactly happened to you and your detail. Much is . . . pure speculation-."

"Oh, get to the point, Lord Bloodwrath!" Duyash said. "Bloodsun has all but been called a traitor, and it hardly lessens the charge by the fact she IS the only survivor of that massacre!"

Lord Bloodwrath whirled and thrust a finger at the irate knight. "You will do well to remember your place, Knight Duyash! This is not a tribunal, but merely a council of inquiry!"

"Why not make it a formal tribunal, Lord?" Duyash said, pressing on with his tirade. "We need only question Dame Bloodsun in this case."

"Forgive me, Knight, but it is hardly your place to set Council protocol . . . not in this matter!" Freaja said sharply. Her words forced every Blood Knight in the chamber to face her, and she looked to each on in turn as she added, "The circumstances of that massacre, simple as they may yet seem, are compounded upon with further details that I and my companions must be permitted to present to you."

Duyash started to speak, but a quick chopping gesture from Lord Bloodwrath preceded his own words: "Are you suggesting there are further, incriminating circumstances in this matter, Dame Bloodsun?"

"I do, and I am, Lord." Freaja nodded to Liam and the dwarves. "This paladin and his companions are privy and witness to them. Else why would they willingly come into our kingdom, knowing the fate of any enemy who is against Silvermoon and the Horde?"

At that, several of the Blood Knights began to murmur to each other; clearly surprised that ANY enemy would willingly put themselves in harm's way for one of their own.

At length, Lord Bloodwrath held up his hand for silence. "I've considered this matter, in brief, and I will agree that Dame Bloodsun's claim demands a formal inquiry." He looked to Lord Bloodvalor and to Dame Irrisa. "As such, a Tribunal will take time to prepare. Lord Bloodvalor and Lady Irrisa will undertake the arrangements and selection of the officers of rank to hear all testimony."

Ajernon Sunblade spoke after a chorus of agreement faded from the chamber. "Lord, what of these . . . witnesses? While they remain under protection of our Order, what do we do with them?"

Irrisa nodded, saying, "Aye, we have no proper place to hold prisoners of war inside our Conclave's holdings."

"I may have a solution, Lord."

Lord Bloodwrath faced Freaja once more. "And, that is, Dame Bloodsun?"

Freaja spoke up. "Lord, while it may not exactly be a prison, my family's home is more than adequately armed and guarded by a substantial presence of knights and our city's guardians, who are loyal to our cause." After a moment's pause she added, "As well, the Knight has given his word, to abide and keep peace within our city walls."

At that, Lord Bloodwrath arched one feathery eyebrow. "As such . . . you believe him, Dame Bloodsun?" Watching as she turned to face the human, Lord Bloodwrath could not miss the silent exchange passing between her and him.

"Yes, Lord. I do. As much as I would trust any of this Order . . . even my own family," Freaja said proudly.

Lord Bloodvalor looked at the human, standing next to the two dwarves. While it had been ages since he himself had been privy to the company of humans - back during the Troll Wars and the Great Wars afterwards - the bearing and stance of this one, lone male was enough to give him pause. Here, amid his 'enemies', this man showed no fear. No disgust or loathing. The aura of calm that permeated from him was like the ancient tales of old; when Bloodwrath had known the true believes of the Holy Light to have this same quiet air of competence.

"Your word, human," he said after a moment more, "It had better be as binding as iron chains. Otherwise, that is exactly what you will find yourself in." Bloodwrath nodded to Freaja. "Your solution will be permitted, Dame Bloodsun. On the provision of guards from your own home will provide the . . . protection, that is needed here." He looked to the rest of the Blood Knights. "Are we all in accordance?"

A chorus of "Yea." answered Lord Bloodwrath.

.  
.

oOoOo

.

.

In moments after the close of the council, Liam, Hanna and Rhandall found themselves under another escort of Blood Knights, This time, Freaja joined them on foot as they were led past several magnificent structures on the main concourse of Silvermoon's Walk of Elders.

"So, we are expected to give our testimony to your elders, prove of the attacks on your person and then . . . what, my Lady?" Liam asked her.

"The Council of the Order will not delay much." Freaja looked at Liam with a half-smile. "While we do tend to over-talk things, we may only need to wait a day before the Tribunal is assembled."

"Och, well then . . . least we won't have tae wait long fer th' firin' squad," Rhandall muttered.

Hanna scowled at him. "Ever th' optimist, cousin?"

Freaja placed a hand on Hanna's shoulder. "I may not be able to make any promises, friend, but I will do all within my means to try to secure your freedom from death." She nodded to the black look Rhandall shot her way. "It is the least I can do, for all that you three have done for me."

Liam said, "It is more than enough, my Lady. We shall always be grateful."

Rhandall snorted. "Grateful, my Auntie Annie's beer mug!" He stared hard at Liam, pointing a finger at him. "Yer just as in dutch wi' all o' us, Lad! An' I don't see ye tryin' t'find a way out o' this situation."

Liam said, "I have faith a solution will present itself, my friend. Always have that, and the Light will never abandon you." He added after a moment, "Besides, we have yet to see the end of this situation, Rhandall. There is always a chance we may have never needed to worry at all."

Rhandall frowned and stomped along in silence.

Eventually, the city guards that had been summoned to escort them came to a halt in front of a gilded, golden gateway.

Looking up, Liam asked Freaja, "We have arrived?"

Freaja smiled - a genuine one, filled with pride - as she stepped around the congress of guardians to approach the gateway. "We have. Come." Before she turned towards the gate to open it, she spoke quickly to the guardsmen, and they saluted before moving to take a cordon-position in front of the gate.

Liam and the Cousins followed her through the gate. Unable to hide their curiosity, the trio stared around with unchecked surprise. The home that Freaja led them to was modest - by Quel'thalas standards - but it was clear to Liam and his friends that it was no common dwelling.

Inside a small foyer lay another gate. The gilded bars of this gate were white with gold and reddish trim, and a blood-red sigil in the shape of a four-ray sun sat at its apex. Beside the spires the formed the gate's bastion, a pair of Sin'dorei in plate armor stood a silent vigil. Their eyes watched the trio of outlanders with grave suspicion, but they quickly bowed and snapped to attention when Freaja addressed them sharply in Thalassian. One made a short reply, then moved to open one side of the gate, before stepping back to permit them to enter.

Freaja nodded, then strode regally past the guard, leaving Liam, Rhandall and Hanna to follow her inside.

Beyond the gate, a wide courtyard spread out before them. Floating plant-holders and decorative sconces lined the high walls, which wrapped around in a curve before meeting the front wall of the tall home. Here, an archway led into the house-proper, next to which a hitching post stood; capped in bronze with several tether rings hanging down. A single hawkstrider - colored crimson and black, with a dual-rider saddle - stood preening in silence next to the post.

Pausing as she reached the stones in the center of the wide, walled in space, she turned to the trio and said, "As outsiders, you are the first to have ever graced these walls with your presence. For that, I bid you welcome to Sahamas House; the ancestral home of all members of the Bloodsun Family, since the founding of Silvermoon in ancient times."

Liam looked around at the surrounding walls and triple-level home. Everywhere, the evidence of residual magic filled the air, and lingered on every shaped stone and plank. "You honor us, my Lady," he said, nodding as he faced her. "I've only heard tell of the wonder of Quel'thalas and how magnificently the elves built their homes. To see it first hand . . . ."

"Well, it has paled somewhat, since recent times," Freaja admitted, her face turning in the general direction of the Dead Scar; now far off in the distance.

"Well, 'tis a cheerful place that ye call home, at least." Hanna said. "Don't ye think so, Rhan?"

"Oh, sure. Certain 'tis," Rhandall said brightly, just before he dropped into an undertone, muttering to himself, "If ye canna forget th' armed guard, ye canna get a more cheerful air than what's inside the Burning Steppes!"

Fortunately, Freaja didn't hear his comments, because at that moment the doors on the far end of the short tunnel inside the arch had opened wide. From within, a tall, armored, red-headed figure emerged; striding with quick and steady footsteps until they ducked past the low arch to stand tall before them.

"Freaja!" the newcomer all but bellowed, his wide, angular face draped with a grin as he strode towards the female paladin.

Freaja's own smile was an echo of his. Meeting him halfway, she let him sweep her up; his hands encircling her waist as he lifted her from the stones, before literally crushing her in an expansive hug. "Brother!"

Rhandall looked agog. "Tha's her . . . brother?" Rhandall muttered.

Liam smothered a chuckle, watching while Freaja and the tall male talked animatedly with each other as he lowered her to the stones. It was easy to see the filial way they regarded each other, as well as some of the similarities between them. "It would appear to be so, Rhandall."

Rhandall made a soft, phlegemic sound in his throat. "What in th' devil do they feed these bloody elves in this place!"

"Weel, I'd say there must be some additional breedin' in Lassie's family, 'cause that's th' tallest elf I've ever seen!" Hanna walked her eyes up and down the tall, red-haired male as he spoke with Freaja. The armored elf stood well taller than even Liam's own human height, by well near two full heads.

As one, the pair turned to face the others - Freaja taking her brother's hand as she nodded to Liam and the dwarves in turn. "Brother, let me make known to you Hanna and Rhandall Stormhand, cousins and hunters . . . and to Liam mac Roi, Paladin of Loredaeron and of Northshire."

At the mention of his name, Liam stepped one pace in front of the others, and bowed low over his left hand. "It is an honor to greet you, friend, in the name of the Holy Light."

Much to Liam's surprise, the tall elf returned the bow with equal grace, but the smile that had been on his face fell into a cool, schooled expression. "I am Freajr, son of Lord Odan Bloodsun." Rising, his deep green eyes fixed solidly on Liam's face with an expression of mixed curiosity and distrust.

Liam caught the flavor of his tone, and he asked, "Do you always welcome guests with such distaste, Sir?"

Freajr said, "If you mean members of the Alliance, Sir, then yes I do."

Freaja caught the tone of her brother, and she gave Liam and the dwarves an apologetic look. "Freajr, it was thanks to Liam and his companions that I was able to return here in the first place."

Freajr's stance and distaste did not waver. "Forgive me, Sister . . . but would you have me welcome a mongrel in our home, and give it free run of the pantry even if they had saved one of our flock?"

Rhandall snorted, "Who in' th' Abyss is he callin' a mongrel?" He looked at Freaja and said, "I think yer brother doesn't care fer our presence, Lass."

Freajr's lip twisted into a sneer. "And they say the Dwarves of the Alliance are too slow to comprehend such simple words! Looks like I was wrong about that."

Liam and Rhandall looked fit to take Freaja's brother to task, and Freaja herself was about to speak out, but it was Hanna herself who jumped first. "Now, look here Lord Fancy-Pants! We're in enough of a cook pot as it stands, an' yer not helpin' matters wi' all o' yer disrespectful talk!"

Freajr stared down at her and scoffed. "And how would you recommend I talk, even to a tittering hen as yourself, Dwarf?"

At that, Rhandall winced sharply. "Och, now ye done did it," he muttered.

Freajr merely grinned, but it was an expression he quickly lost as he and the others watched Hanna turned about, before darting over to where a tall, ornate bench sat against one of the courtyard walls. With a grunt, she hefted it up and stalked back over to where the tall elf stood. Plunking it down, she quickly climbed up onto its back, which brought her almost to eye-level with Freajr.

"What in the name-?" Freajr's exclamation was cut off when Hanna reached out and snagged him by the edge of his breastplate, jerking him down to where they were almost nose-to-nose.

"Now, ye'll listen well, Longshanks," Hanna said, bristling with ill-kept temper. "I'm bein' awfully lenient wi' ye, because Freaja's yer sister - an' I'll admit I've taken a shine tae her. But, yer attitude an' bad manners are wearin' me nerve down tae th' nub!" She pointed a finger in his face for emphasis. "Keep it up, an' I'll box yer pointy ears in so far, they'll come out yer nostrils!"

In the silence that followed, a sudden burst of laughter filled the air. Rhandall and Liam turned to see it was Freaja who was laughing; holding on hand up to her mouth even as she stared at the scene before them.

Freajr glared at his sister. "You find this . . . funny!"

"Oh no!" Freaja said, before she looked accusingly at Rhandall. "It's just that . . . it appears she and her cousin think alike!"

Rhandall arched one eyebrow, then he began to chuckle himself. "Och, stew me pink! She's right. I did say th' same thing, back in Silverpine."

Liam merely shook his head, trying hard not to add his own laughter to Freaja's. "Hanna," he said at length. "Let our host go. We came here in peace, so let's not start up another 'war', shall we?"

Hanna looked at Liam, then, as if realizing the absurd scene she was making, she slowly let go of Freajr and clambered down. But not before she gave him one last scathing look as she touched the stones. "Well, he was askin' fer it."

By then, Freaja had mastered herself, only chuckling softly as she approached her brother. "Freajr, you do yourself credit, but your distrust is sorely misplaced. As well, your temper is more than matched by our friend there. She gave her brother a mock-punch in the arm, adding before he could protest, "Show a little respect, for all that they're of the Alliance, these three were responsible for my being able to come home in the first place."

Freajr's expression soured, then as her words registered it lightened as he stared sideways at his sister. "You . . . you are right, my sister. Forgive me."

Freaja said, "It is not me you need to beg for forgiveness, Brother." She looked towards Liam. "After all, these people are our guests, after a fashion. You really must ask for the pardon of your bad manners."

He nodded to Liam and the dwarves. "My sister is right. It appears I and my father must thank you, for restoring Freaja to her home and station."

"The thanks are really unnecessary." Liam glanced at his friends. "We were only too happy to be of service to your sister, Lady Freaja." He glanced up and down briefly, before he indicated the mark on Freajr's shoulder. "You are a Knight as well, I see?"

"Yes," Freajr said with unabashed pride. "I was only just given my rank, not but five days hence."

At that, Freaja beamed up at Freajr. "You finished your trials already?" Clasping him in another hug, she asked, "If that is so, why were you not with Lord Bloodvalor when-?"

"I was called back to assist father, Freaja . . . there's been much change since you were last at home." He shot a side glance at Liam and the dwarves, before his smile softened a bit. "But that is talk for another time. What matters now is that you were fortunate to have such folk as these, to bring you back to us."

"Aye . . . though not all of us had a say in that," Rhandall muttered, only to grunt when Hanna mashed his instep with her heel. "Owch!"

"Manners, cousin, mind 'em!"

Liam started to apologize, but Freajr held up one hand to forestall his words. "Do not fear, Paladin." With a tolorant grin towards Hanna he added, "I have been told of the legendary tempers of the dwarves, and it seems that the tales do not lie. For that, I still am grateful for your going out of your way." He looked to Freaja and nodded. "When my sister was reported missing - dead, even - after the ransacked caravan she was a part of was found, our family all but lost all hope of seeing her again."

"We were only just told the tale of that incident ourselves," Liam said. Glancing at Freaja, he added, "We . . . do believe some other agency was involved in the attack."

"Aye, wi' the intent of doin' yer sister no end t'harm, it seems," Hanna added.

Freajr frowned. "Is this true, Freaja?"

Freaja ducked her head, but she said plainly, "It would seem to be so . . . but, I cannot say exactly who or what was the culprit responsible for what happened to me." She added softly, "The elders of our order already are in council with the leadership of the Farstriders, while an inquiry is being prepared."

Freajr looked surprised, but he quickly recovered and smiled as he looked from Liam to the dwarves and back again. "Until then, permit me to extend our family's hospitality. My father-."

"Freajr," a male's voice said, coming from beyond the entryway behind them. "Why do you not come inside? Has not your sister been released from-?"

"Forgive me, father," Freajr said, turning to face the doorway, and the tall, robed figure that had appeared in the shadowy light beyond it. "Your daughter was making us known to those responsible for her safe return." Stepping away, he moved to the person's side and guided them into the light; now revealed clearly as Freaja and Freajr's father by the shape of his face. He had silver-blond hair, tapered ears and a fine, short beard that covered his chin like Freajr's, but his eyes were closed shut. Clad in fine robes and leaning on a tall, metal staff with a gleaming crystal in its tip, the elder male was brought to join the others standing there.

"Paladin, friend-dwarves, this is Odan Bloodsun; Lord and First-Guardian of Sahamas House."

Liam started to speak, only to be brought up short when the silver-blond haired elf stepped away from his tall son and moved in close; one hand raising up to hover in front of Liam's face. Eyes still closed, Odan seemed to be focused elsewhere . . . then, he dropped his hand and said softly, "Strength . . . both of heart, body and the conviction of soul and purpose. Strange, to feel such depths within a human." He stepped back and made a bow towards Liam. "As my son as most likely thanked you, Paladin, allow me to add mine to his, for restoring my daughter to me."

"As I told your son, we were only too happy to be of service, Lord." Liam tipped his head a bit, studying the elder elf for a moment, before the point snapped into focus in his mind: _Lord Odan is blind! That is why his eyes do not open to greet us._

As if sensing Liam's thought, Odan's mouth twisted up in a rueful smile. "Though I lost my eyes to the Scourge years ago, there is much I still can see, Paladin . . . though I do thank you for not pitying me. I could tell, and I can say that there is little in me that deserves pity. Even after all that has befallen my home and my people."

"With the strength your daughter has shown during the time she has traveled with my companions and I," Liam said, "it is clear no one should need to pity any of this family's house."

At that, Lord Odan smiled. "It does my heart well, to hear the Freaja has given a good account of herself, while in your care, Paladin."

Freaja ducked her head and blushed. "I have ever done my duty, to my order and my family, Lord."

Reaching out, Odan placed a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. "As I should never worry for that, my daughter." Dropping his hand, Odan spoke to Liam,saying, "For now, Paladin, you and your companions shall be my guests. While you may be prisoners, all that I have shall be made available to you for comfort and restoration from your trials. A small token of my thanks for your service to my daughter."

Freajr moved to take his place beside his father - standing still as the elder elf reached up to grasp his near shoulder. "Come, there is food and drink prepared for you within."

Rhandall beamed. "Ah! Now yer talkin' good sense, Lad! Lead on, I say."

Hanna chuckled, "Typical, cousin . . . best to settle that cavern ye call a belly, before we talk of other things, eh?"

At that, Odan merely laughed. "Fear not, for my house has still the means to satisfy even the hunger of a single dwarf." He nodded and Freajr led him away. "Come inside and be welcome."

.  
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oOoOo

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_Jahkor Sunblight's Command, Farstrider's Square, Silvermoon City . . . ._

.  
"To the Twisting Nether!"

Sergeant Alyn Sunstone stood nearby, placid as a stone while Ranger-Captain Jahkor Sunblight seethed and raged; tossing papers aside from his war table and smashing his fists against its unyielding surface. The dark-haired officer had been in a righteous rage ever since returning from the confrontation at the Shepherd's Gate, and it didn't appear to be slacking off.

"That wretch!" Jahkor said to himself. "She managed to survive! After all the planning and work . . . now she turns up, right when we're about to attempt the apex of my plan!"

"Sir, the _sin'osa_ has been taken in," Sergeant Sunstone offered, trying to calm his superior's temper.

Jakhor whirled and glared at his subordinate. "By her own blight-cursed Order, fool! She's as safe as any babe in a cradle, so long as she remains in their conclave!" He turned away and started to pace back and forth. "So close, we were so, damn, close!"

"But, Sir," Sergeant Sunstone said, "She cannot be the thing that makes this whole affair come undone? As such, if she believes she is safe here in the capital . . . shouldn't that make her more complacent to lower her guard?"

Jahkor stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face Sergeant Sunstone. "What are you driving at, Sergeant? Explain!"

"Sir, we knew the risk of leaving her alive, but we didn't know where she was prior to today." Sergeant Sunstone paused. "Now, we do know where she is, and it is certain she will not be as wary of danger in Silvermoon, as she was out in the wilds." He pointed at the ground for emphasis. "We can take her, here, where she is the most vulnerable."

"That is only possible, IF she were to leave the protection of her precious Blood Knight conclave," Jakhor said with a dismissive wave.

"Then, Sir, why not have her followed?" Sergeant Sunstone asked. "After all, we do have elements within the Farstriders that can . . . best perform the necessary tasks we now require."

At that, Jakhor looked at Sergeant Sunstone, his glowing eyes narrowing into hard slits. "Yes . . . yes, you have a point there." Eyes flaring wide, he asked, "Are the elements in camp as we speak?"

"Yes Sir."

A poisonous grin seeped slowly across Jakhor's face. "Good. Then, here is what I want you to do, Sergeant. Listen well . . . ."

As the Farstrider Captain put forth his desires before his subordinate, a dark air permeated the area around the Farstrider's quarters . . . .

.

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-==- To Be Continued... -==-


End file.
